


Teenage Dream

by thatsmuchbetter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5012263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmuchbetter/pseuds/thatsmuchbetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being away from her hometown for the last nine years, Emma Swan returns for a visit which its sole purpose is to let go of her past once and for all. The past in the form of Killian Jones. But what will happen when she realizes that while some things have changed, her feelings for the guy who broke her heart remained the same? High school sweethearts AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walking Down the Lane of Recollections

There were just a few things Emma Swan had sworn never to do again. Looking into the blue depths of Killian Jones's eyes was at the top of that list.

Yet here she was, back in her hometown of Storybrooke, only five hundred feet away from the Joneses' boathouse, and minutes away from facing the man who had shattered her heart into a million pieces nine years ago.

He was her first love, her high school sweetheart. The man she had loved to no end. The only man she'd ever imagined standing at the altar with, having children with… until he'd bailed on her the day before they were supposed to leave for college together.

The now twenty-seven year old blonde got out of her yellow bug, shoving the door shut and leaning heavily against it as she gazed at the Jones family boat.

The boat that held so many memories, their first date, first kiss, first…

Emma closed her eyes and took in the fresh air deep into her lungs.

The memory of her virginity given to him on that very boat flashed in front of her eyes; he had taken her body with such tenderness she had no idea even existed. His delectable touch so consuming that it still burned her skin. He'd savored, cherished, admired…made her feel as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

He'd made her feel _loved_. But had he really loved her or had it all been an act? She wasn't sure. Not that it mattered now. That was not why she came to see him.

She began walking toward the boathouse, dressed in dark tights, a casual white blouse and her favorite red leather jacket. The sound of her boots thumping against the pavement filled the late afternoon air. And while her footsteps quickened with every step she took, they were unable to keep up with the beats of her racing heart.

Her hand clenched around her car keys. A thumb nervously tracing the pattern on the swan keychain as she thought of the man who had given it to her – the man she'd left back in New York and the real reason to why she was here.

In order for her to move forward she needed to let go of her past, she needed to let go of _Killian Jones_.

She remembered Killian as nothing less than an absolute God. He had always known how to treat a lady, inside the bed and out. And his looks had been the kind of stuff that erotic dreams were made of. Striking blue eyes taking center stage in his unbelievably handsome face, and his fit body had had the right amount of hair and muscle on it. All the girls had wanted him, and all the guys had wanted to be him. And she? The swan girl? Had been lucky enough to live the teenage dream.

It had been so long and she began doubting the credibility of these memories. She needed to prove to herself that they were nothing but a figment of her imagination, or an exaggeration at the least.

No one was _that_ perfect.

She needed to see with a grown woman's eyes that he was flawed just like the rest of male-kind. Once she gained a real perspective about the myth that was Killian Jones she'd finally leave the past and him behind, where they belonged.

…

Emma spotted him, crouched down near one of the sailboats that had been hauled out of the water for renovation. With her green gaze transfixed on him, she felt her heart pounding like a sledgehammer and her hands misted with perspiration. Jesus she was actually sweating.

Killian was immersed in his work, maturity definitely graced him. He was even more buff these days, and his skin deliciously suntanned. His strong arms and back muscles flexing as he sanded the bottom of the boat.

He was shirtless.

Emma's knees weakened and her mouth watered by hunger she hadn't known she was still capable of feeling. An intense, untamed lust only experienced as a sex-crazed teenager. She had been a young woman then, discovering her sexuality and blessed with a skilled caring boyfriend who had taken his time to sate her desires.

The last time Killian had done just that had been the last time she saw him.

They'd left their love-nest that had been the quarters of his family boat and walked hand-in-hand the short distance to her parents' house.

"I withdrew my college application." He'd dropped the bomb with a straight face. "I'll always remember the good times we had and I'm sure you'll do great out there."

Almost three years together and he dumped her like a meaningless fling.

She had no idea how long he'd known he was going to stay in Storybrooke and take care of his family business instead of going to college. The entire summer? Their entire high school senior year?

The fact that he hadn't asked her to stay with him and the coolness with which he'd handled the breakup had let her known how little she'd meant to him.

Paralyzed by the same sharp pain in her chest that she'd felt almost a decade ago, she stood there reliving the moment. Thankfully, she had more self-control now and managed to keep her eyes dry.

She took the final few steps, getting a close look on Killian's sweat-sheened back and tousled dark hair. God this sight of him brought back memories. Memories of a time when she had been the reason he'd looked like this – sweaty and ruffled.

"Hey," she said a bit loudly, trying to overcome the sound of the sander.

"What can I do for you, love?" He shouted without looking back, his gaze concentrated on the path he was making with the tool.

His husky accented voice left her speechless. It was the voice that used to whisper the three little words in her ear every single time he slid inside her. The repetitive gesture had been heart-swelling while they lasted. But after they were over, it was one more painful memory that had seared into her brain. And heart. Leaving her feeling like a fool for believing him whole-heartedly instead of taking his words for what they really were – empty. She wondered sometimes if it had been some kind of a pre-fuck ritual for him, since he'd probably never meant them, since he'd obviously never loved her.

A lump welled in her throat and she forced it back down, determined to get her roaring emotions under control. She inhaled deeply and tried to steel her nerves. Her damp, shaky hands found sanctuary in the back pockets of her pants as she reminded herself the purpose of her visit.

After an endless minute without a word Killian finally shut off the sander, then jumped up to his feet and turned around to face her. Her heart damn near stopped in her chest when her eyes met the bright blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past nine years.

"Hello Killian,"

With mouth agape, now he was the one who was left speechless.


	2. Broken Promises

"Cat got your tongue?"

Emma might have teased Killian for his inability to speak, but she was equally shaken. Coming face-to-face with the only man she'd ever opened herself fully to, was much harder than she'd anticipated. The years had done nothing to the dull the pain. Or the yearning. Her heart felt like an aching knot in her chest, which made it hard to draw a breath that wouldn't betray her desperate need for air. A glance at his lips – slightly parted and dangerously tempting – she could still feel them pressed against her skin, whispering promises of forever. Promises he'd callously broke.

Blowing out his breath with a smile, Killian snapped out of his shock and reached for his shirt that hung over the boat's railing. "You're back." He said finally, rubbing his sweat-slick forehead with the simple T before he pulled it over his head.

Emma's gaze fell to his muscle-rippled torso, helplessly following the movements as he covered it with the paint-stained sky blue material.

To her misfortune Killian remained infuriatingly handsome. His stubble was longer and thicker than it had been at eighteen and her hands clenched against the urge to know how it would feel under her fingertips. Unquestionably, it complemented the sexy look he was rocking these days; that of an extremely attractive mature man who was exuding vigorous masculinity from every pore.

It didn't help that he was in blue either. The color brought out his eyes. She used to tell him that all the time during their thirty-two months of dating.

"I'm back." She repeated, wondering if he'd thought of her when he chose this particular shirt. Could it be that she'd left her mark on him too?

His blue eyes gave nothing away. He'd always been calm and controlled. Even when he'd unexpectedly lost his parents at the age of fourteen, he'd been the one to pull himself and his older brother together.

He breathed and wiped the sweat under his lower lip with the back of his hand. "You're back back or just visit back?"

With arms crossed and gaze riveted to his family boat, Emma reflected on the many quiet moments they'd shared above and below deck. The warm summer breeze blowing softly through her long golden hair, caressing her skin the way his touch once had.

God, it seemed like a lifetime ago and suddenly she missed how it felt to be in the arms of that enthralling dark-haired boy with the warm blue eyes when she herself was young and naïve and believed that love could conquer all. She missed the mad, deep love she'd felt for him. A love that lacked any act or thought of self-preservation, so unlike the guarded love she'd experienced in every other relationship after him, after she'd built up walls to protect her fragile heart.

Knowing that the tears would be unstoppable if she let herself wallow, Emma caught a wayward strand of blond hair and tucked it away along with the inexplicable surge of longing.

"Visit back." She averted her gaze back to Killian, searching his face for any sign that her answer pleased or displeased him. He revealed nothing.

"Your parents must be thrilled."

"Yeah," she hid her lie with a tight smile. "They are."

Her parents didn't even know she was in town yet. She'd left New York in a rush, out of impulse almost. So fed up with her obsessed mind comparing every man to an ideal one; she'd packed a suitcase and decided to make the seven hour drive to Storybrooke, armed with steel resolve to get Killian out of her system once and for all.

Only now that he was in front of her – the guy who'd stolen her heart and never given it back – she could barely string two thoughts together. Let alone partake in the casual conversation he was trying to make.

"So how's the big city?" he took an interest.

"Great." Was her quick – yet not entirely honest – reply. She liked her job and she liked Manhattan, but she hadn't completely gotten used to the madness of the city and was still getting agitated whenever she had to squeeze her way through pedestrians on the busy sidewalks. "Really great." She was grateful her voice came out confident despite feeling completely shredded inside, her heartbeat thundering in her ears and her composure hanging on by just a single thread. Worried he'd see right through her, she looked away from him and casted her gaze along the wharf.

"Everything you've ever dreamed of?" Killian canted his head to the side, trying to catch her eyes. And if she hadn't known better, she would have said he was trying to look into her soul too.

She just gave a weak nod, struggling to play along with this charade – talk as if they were just two lifelong friends catching up.

The wordless silence that fell between them told her that he'd sensed her uneasiness.

Emma frowned and scrubbed a hand over her forehead. This was not going the way she'd hoped. She felt baffled and off her game, she needed time to get her head straight. Acting like the mess she had been when he'd kicked her to the curb would do her no good. Not to mention she would never forgive herself for it. It had to be different now – _it had to_ – she was a grown woman for God's sake. A successful one. If she was able to lead a team of fifteen subordinates with a CEO breathing down her neck, there was no reason she couldn't handle this. Anything other than having the upper hand by the end of this weekend was just not an option. All she had to do was figure out a way how.

"What are you doing after work?" her clipped tone broke the silence, their gazes meeting.

Two dark brows rose. Obviously her boldness had taken him by surprise. "Just the usual."

While she wondered what his daily routine looked like, it was impossible not to picture him hitting the steamy shower after a long work day. His large hands lathering the shampoo into his wet raven hair, rivulets of soapy water running down his wide shoulders and muscled back…

Her curiosity piqued as to whether he still favored the brand with the wooded spicy fragrance and she wished she were close enough to smell and find out. That scent would forever be associated in her mind with Killian and the intimate moments they had once shared.

"Why? What'd you have in mind?" his voice interrupted her reverie.

But then, unbidden, a pair of feminine arms barged into the shower scene in her mind and snaked around his lean waist from behind; ten perfectly red-polished nails tracing the lines of his washboard abs and trailing up to his beautifully defined pectorals…

Emma's stomach flipped. She ran a self-conscious thumb over her slightly bitten nails, skimming the chips in the pearl varnish, and she wasn't sure what was worse – a lush, sensual woman waiting for Killian to ravish her at home or the fact that she actually gave a damn?

In the nine years she'd been away her parents mentioned him not once – and she hadn't dared ask – so whether he had a significant other was unknown to her. She'd already searched his hand for a ring, but just because he didn't have one didn't mean he wasn't taken. He was a catch in every sense possible, which was why she couldn't imagine him ever being single.

"I thought we could go out to dinner together." She put on an easy smile. No simple task when her gut was knotting. "You know, for old times' sake."

His hand lifted to scratch behind his ear and her gaze narrowed on that telltale tick of his. Maybe he wasn't so indifferent to her after all. Or maybe there was another reason for his nervousness.

"Sure," his throat worked on a hard swallow. "What time?"

"Eight work for you?" she held his gaze despite the rush of heat it shot through her. "Pick me up from my parents' house?"

He actually had to think it over. Taking out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, he glanced at the screen for the time. He then looked back at the boat he had been working on and around the boathouse before nodding at her. "I'll be there."

"Or I can come by your house and we'll go from there," she cleared her throat, suddenly feeling awkward for asking him to pick her up as if they were going on a date. "Do you still live with Liam at – "

"I said I'll be there." He cut her off so quickly and with such determination that she couldn't help but think he was deliberately avoiding her question. She also noticed that something sifted through his eyes, she wasn't sure what it was but it gave her the feeling that he was hiding something. Then again, she didn't really know him anymore to say for sure, let alone call him out on that; and besides, his personal life was none of her business.

"Great." She gave a slight nod back and turned to leave.

"Swan," he called after her and she pivoted. It had been ages since she'd heard anyone address her by her last name, with Killian being the only one who used to do that. "You look good I must say." He smiled softly, looking at her with luminous eyes.

She swore her heart didn't beat for a good five seconds. "Thanks," she backed up in a haste to leave, not trusting her ability – or lack of – to resist his charms. "So do you." Turning her back to him once again, she began walking toward her car. Scratch good. He looked phenomenal, like he'd just stepped out of a GQ cover…

Suddenly dinner didn't seem like the smartest idea, but it was too late to back out now.

All was left was to hope she'd make it out alive.


	3. Broken Hearts

Killian's smile faded fast. The burning sensation reached his eyes even faster. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and exhaled audibly, his shoulders sagging as he emptied his lungs.

Emma Swan. A decade had passed and her effect on him remained as deadly as ever; much like getting thrown overboard into the deep rough sea. He would have come up with something better than those few cursory questions if he hadn't felt like he was drowning…

The moment he first saw her in high school he'd known she'd ruin him. With hypnotizing green eyes, a sexy tangle of blond hair and breathtaking smile, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. Everyone – freshmen to seniors – noticed her; and every other guy lusted after her. He included. And that hadn't changed. Just moments ago, when she stood only two feet away from him and the sun lit up her golden strands, it had taken every ounce of self-possession to not push his fingers into her hair and take her mouth in a claiming kiss.

Not that she was his to claim, she hadn't been for a very long time. He'd made sure of that and that was not going to change. Ever.

"What's up, brother?" Liam's voice came from behind, but Killian couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from Emma as she walked away from him like in the last memory he had of her; the one that gnawed at him and filled his heart with guilt.

It'd been years and every time he closed his eyes he could still see the hurt and disbelief on her tear-streaked face, he could still hear the pained sound that escaped her when she skirted him and vanished into her parents' house.

Something inside of him died every time he replayed that scene in his mind; yet he wouldn't have done it any different. He'd rather have this one bad moment between Emma and him, than years' worth of them.

A heartbeat later, his brother was standing arms crossed by his side. "She's back?"

"Just visiting her parents."

"Then what did she want with you?" both Jones watched the yellow bug drive down the road.

"I'm not sure…" Killian's voice trailed off as he dived deeper into thoughts.

Judging by the way she was seething underneath her façade, he could guess this was anything but a courtesy call. His brother was right; Emma did want something. His head on a platter most likely. The look she had in those expressive emerald eyes had been physically painful to watch. She was so angry that he could still feel her rage dripping over him like torturing drops of water. It shouldn't have surprised him that she was closed off with hurt and fury – not after the way he'd ended things between them – but it did. Because after all these years he figured she'd forgotten all about him. He certainly didn't expect her to want anything to do with him, even if her only motivation was to get back at him. Lord knows he had it coming.

"Are you going to see her again?"

He felt Liam's gaze slide over his profile, studying him. And when Emma's car disappeared around the corner, Killian finally turned to look at his brother. "Dinner." He replied, meeting the same blue eyes he saw in the mirror every day.

No one could mistake they were brothers; aside from their eyes they had more in common physically. They were about the same height – Liam just an inch taller – and they were both muscular without too much bulk. A few days' worth of stubble framed their full lips and according to the ladies they had the same sexy smile.

On any other day he would have said that the only thing that set them apart was the hair; Liam's was sunkissed-brown and curly, while his was inky-black and straight. But today his older brother was also wearing a different look from the Jones casual T and jeans. Today he suited up. It was an all black three-piece with a white dress shirt and a blue tie that matched his irises. Liam looked elegant and powerful in his suit, but Killian sensed he wasn't entirely comfortable. Just like him, Liam wasn't much of a fan of the business attire and preferred getting his clothes dirty while working on a boat. But since he was on his way to an important meeting, one that could help pick up their business, the suit was essential.

With an arched brow, Killian raked his brother's appearance from head to toe. "It looks good on you. You should consider a career change so you could wear these more often."

Liam shot him a mock glare that made him smile briefly. But it didn't make the lingering shadows on his heart go away.

He was about to turn toward the sailboat when his brother placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Are you going to tell her?" Liam held his gaze, his hand squeezing his brotherly support.

Killian knew what his brother had meant by that, but as far as he was concerned there was nothing to tell. Anything he might say would only cause more pain and the end would only be the same.

"The only thing I'm going to do is give her what I assume she came here for."

"And what's that?" his brother bared even white teeth in a sinful smile.

Not in the mood for that kind of jokes – especially not where Emma was concerned – he removed Liam's hand from his shoulder. "Closure."

"Killian," Liam sighed, his amusement replaced by a worried frown. "You think you're ready for that?" the question momentarily threw Killian for a loop. "Letting her go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He hedged, shouldering past him to pick up the sander and crouch in front of the boat. "I let her go years ago."

Killian was close to his brother and they talked about pretty much everything, but just thinking of Emma was eating at him like nothing ever had. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about her. But before his thumb got a chance to flick the switch, Liam had already unplugged the tool and he was left with no choice but to hear his brother out.

"Then how come you keep that box?" Liam pressed. "It's been ten years."

As much as he loved his older brother, sometimes it felt like he was getting under his skin. It wasn't the fact that Liam had snooped through his stuff that aggravated him. It was the fact that he knew him so damn well. Possibly better than he would have liked.

Killian's head bowed and he ran an exasperated hand through his hair, nape to top and back, making it look as disheveled as he felt. "Nine." He muttered and lifted his gaze to find his brother towering over him.

"So you _are_ counting." Liam didn't hide the self-gratification in his voice. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped one hand into the front pocket of his slacks, the other leaning against the boat's railing. "Maybe it's time you stop pretending that you're over her." His stubborn-ass brother pressed even further.

"Maybe it's time you stop." Killian snapped, tossing the sander on the ground and rising abruptly to his feet. "This is all your fault anyway." He blurted out, immediately regretting his words.

Liam's head snapped back. "My fault?"

Since Killian remained silent his brother insisted in his authoritative tone, "tell me what you meant by that."

"Nothing."

"It's obviously something." Liam gave his determined look, the one that told Killian he wasn't going to drop this. Not until he got his way. "So just say it."

Knowing he couldn't win a battle of wills with his older brother, Killian went on with the accusation, though his tone had lost its hard edge. "Waiting until graduation to tell me was a real shitty move, Liam. You should have told me the moment you found out."

His brother stared in shocked silence for a moment, his hand curling with white-knuckled force around the banister.

When Liam spoke again, his voice was harsh and his gaze narrow. "And let you become a dropout like me?"

"And prevent me from leading her on!" Killian lashed-out.

The thought of how he misled Emma had always managed to get the better of him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long, deep breath with the intention to get his temper back in check. He didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Even if he personally didn't give a fuck about that high school diploma, he knew his brother had meant well. The frustration was just too much to bear. And all it took was a look between close siblings for Liam to get that.

They stood for a few moments in easy silence; the only sound was that of water lapping against the wharf – a rhythmic calming sound they both adored.

"You regret being with her?" Liam asked softly, his hand leaving the railing and sliding into his front pocket, mirroring the other.

It was a question Killian had no answer for. Sometimes he wished he could erase the memories of Emma from his mind: the way she fitted so perfectly in his arms…the way she smelled of him after they'd made love…the feel of her silky soft strands against his chest…the low sound of her sexy laughter that had the ability to soothe him more than any other sound in the world. Having known and lost… he wasn't sure whether it had been best to had never known at all…

"Killian?"

"What?" he met his brother's gaze that was urging him to give him a retort, but he had none to give. "What difference does it make?" he bit out. "It's all in the past anyway."

"Clearly it's not." Liam's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "She's here isn't she?"

"So?"

"So maybe it's a chance for a do-over."

"Don't be ridiculous." Killian scoffed wearily. "Nothing's changed." At least for him nothing had. Emma on the other hand had done really well for herself – she'd graduated from college with honors, landed a high paying job at one of the best telecommunications companies in the state of New York, and was now head of marketing.

Over the years, Killian had managed to coax the details out of her mother; but only when the petite green-eyed brunette wasn't around her husband of course. Emma's father hated Killian's guts for what he'd done to his little girl. And though Killian had broken Emma's heart – and his own along with it – with the best of intentions, he couldn't say he blamed the old man. Bottom line, he'd sent Emma off with nothing but feelings of abandonment and betrayal.

"Look," Liam grabbed him by the upper arms and squeezed. "I know things are complicated, but –"

"No buts, Liam." He shook his head. "It will never work. You know I'm right, otherwise you would have followed your own advice, wouldn't you?"

It was his turn to pick on his brother's miserable love life and bring up the poor girl Liam had been working hard to keep at arm's length. But a loud noise of an approaching motorboat stole their attention and their heads turned toward the source of the sound: an impressive fifty feet vessel with smooth lines and arctic white finish. Shiny and super pricey.

The boat came to an abrupt halt with a splash; a flashy entrance as the helmsman's smile.

"That'd be me." Liam glanced at Killian before he waved at the tall, fair-haired man behind the wheel, who seemed to be no more than in his early twenties.

A filthy-rich guy with a silver spoon attitude had always managed to rub Killian the wrong way.

"Are you sure about this?" he questioned his brother's taste in business acquaintances. "He kinda seems like a douche."

"Don't let the money fool you," Liam assured. "Kristoff is a decent fellow, you'd like him; he's a bit rough around the edges but in a good way, and most importantly his heart is in the right place."

Before the blond disappeared into the cabin, he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his head and Killian managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes. They were a dreamy blue, yet kind and friendly. Maybe his brother was right at least about one thing today.

"Besides," his brother went on. "He only married into the Arendelle fortune. His father in law is he who rules the empire and despite the rumors of him being a ruthless businessman, I have the feeling we'll do fine. Kristoff said he plays fair, so let's just hope we land this contract and figure out things from there."

Killian patted his brother's cheek. "If anybody can do this, that'd be you."

"Thanks." Liam looked appreciative of the vote of confidence, his gaze soft and warm. "And if all goes well, I'll see you Sunday." They parted with their ritual brotherly goodbye – a hand clasp and a mutual hearty slap on the back. But that moment lasted only a second before Liam's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Flattery suits you, brother. You should try it on Emma." The smile in his eyes curved his lips into a broad grin.

"God…" Killian rolled his eyes. "You just can't let it go, can you?"

"No. And you know what?" he paused and lowered his voice as if to get a full dramatic effect. "You shouldn't let _her_ go."

Killian took a step closer and fixed his brother's tie, wishing he could fix his own life just as easily. "Is it the tie? Is it blocking the oxygen to your brain?" he taunted. "Is that the reason for all the nonsense coming out of your mouth today?"

His brother smiled and buttoned his jacket before giving Killian a decent shove to the shoulder. "Enjoy your dinner, Killian." But the teasing tone made it sound more like choke-on-your-meal kind of wish.

If only he would be so lucky. Better that than to face a conversation he'd avoided for a long time and a woman he seriously hoped to go through life without having to see again.

As he watched his brother board the cruiser that awaited him, he wondered what Liam would find by the time they saw each other again, big failure or great success.

In his case it was bound to be pain.


	4. Old Habits Die Hard

From where she sat on her parents' white sectional sofa, Emma glanced – for the umpteenth time – at the antique clock above the mantle.

Killian was late. Forty-two minutes late.

Balling her fist, she imagined it connecting with his irritatingly perfect face. Not just for standing her up, but also for killing the innocence in the young girl she had once been.

Instead, she took her anger out on the gum she was chewing, her teeth chomping in tempo with the restless moves of her crossed leg.

She jittered like that until a cramped jaw and one rubber leg forced her to stop. Then she threw her head back into the cushion and deflated in a rush of despair.

This dinner was the worst idea she'd ever had.

Outstretching her legs, she looked down at her Prada covered feet. They were classic navy stilettos, matching the color of the sexy mid-thigh halter dress she was wearing.

Emma was definitely dressed to impress; the cowl neck of the dress revealed the upper swells of her breasts and a hint of black lace push-up bra. She also got her nails done, applied a touch of makeup and wore her hair down in waves, just the way Killian used to like it.

Going all out was just her way of showing him what he had been missing, but not only did it seem redundant now, it seemed utterly ridicules. The whole ensemble mocking her for thinking any good could come out from this allegedly harmless get-together.

She wrapped her gum in a tissue she dug out of her clutch and pursed her lips at the stinging insult of being left hanging like this.

God, she was an idiot. Why was she sitting around and waiting for him to show?

Abruptly, she rose to her feet and stormed out of the house.

As soon as the door slammed behind her, she welcomed the cool evening air that flowed over her rage-heated skin. Then she went down the few stairs and walked through the garden path of paving stones.

Gripping the wrought iron handle, she pulled the white picket fence gate open and stepped out to the small town quiet streets. The night was darker here than in the city that never slept, yet she was hyperaware of the achingly familiar surroundings.

Emma slowed to a halt and looked up at the lavender leaves. Here under the flowering plum tree all of her hopes and dreams had been crushed. That one single moment had chased away myriad of treasured memories of long talks and longer kisses between two adolescents unable to part.

Her hand leaned against the tree trunk, fingers idly tracing the jagged bumps of the bark's cracked surface. Closing her eyes, she could still feel the texture of it against her back, she could still see Killian curved over her, his forearm propped against the stem to bring him closer. She could still feel the brush of his lips against hers and his glorious hair fisted in her hands…

The visions were slowly but surely stealing her sanity. Needing to get away from this spot, she started walking; aimlessly, having neither a plan nor a destination in mind.

With every step she took, a sobering realization sank in deeper – there wasn't a single place in this damned town that didn't trigger recollections; not a single corner where she and Killian hadn't shared a touch, a kiss, a laugh.

Unable to escape the memories, she let her legs bring her to the one place they'd spent more hours than she could count.

…

The short walk to the docks felt longer on four inch heels.

Passing by the emotionally-charged boat, Emma noticed a light coming from below deck.

She paused mid-step, hesitating for a moment before her brain staggered back into action and her body briskly followed. Killian would see her whether he liked it or not. She came into town with a mission and there was no way she was leaving without it being accomplished.

Climbing up the vessel, she looked toward the opening. She didn't want to go down there and deal with more ghosts of their past, but when she heard shuffling noises coming from downstairs, she moved toward the flight of steps without conscious thought.

If Killian wasn't dead, he'd have less than a heartbeat to be.

Curling her fingers around the handrail, she gingerly made her way down the steep staircase. "Anybody here?" her voice sounded small as it drifted to the space below, but the moment the soles of her shoes hit the berth deck's hardwood floor, it was lost altogether.

Coming down here was a huge mistake.

Countless of visions from their past slammed into her in a rush, stirring emotions so deep and powerful, they rocked her back on her heels.

Her gaze slid over the L-shaped settee that hugged an oval oak table. An inescapable reminder of the many after school hours they'd spent there, studying, eating, talking…

The images curved her lips in a wry smile.

He was the best study buddy a girl could ask for; he'd known how to brighten her mood with a single word, and she in return had made him want to cram harder. They evened each other out perfectly. Not to mention the perk of being able to make-out between study sessions.

Recalling the many times things had gotten so heated up between them that they had to retire to one of the cabins, her gaze drifted to the corridor that led to the sleeping area. But nothing could have prepared her for the vision she found there.

…

Fresh from a shower, Killian emerged out of the hallway with nothing but a pair of charcoal boxer briefs and an open black dress shirt. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, his hands freezing on the propped collar.

Her skin flared under his gaze and she prayed he couldn't notice in the dim light.

"Hey," he said softly, his hands straightening the collar as he stepped further into the room. "Can I get you something to drink?" he gestured at the small kitchen near the seating area.

She wasn't thirsty for anything. Except for him. But she wasn't going to admit that.

"No thanks." Staring – because she just couldn't help herself – Emma watched Killian buttoning his shirt with an impressive deftness. The sight of his sinful body combined with the wooded spicy scent of his shampoo hit her senses so hard that she almost forgot how pissed-off she was. Almost. "You're late." She flexed her fingers at her sides, resisting the urge to cross her arms. The defensive posture would imply vulnerability and she wasn't going to hand him that weapon. He could bring her to her knees just fine without it.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I got held up, didn't you get my text?"

"What text?"

"That I'm running late." A frown marred the space between his brows. "Did you change your number?"

"No." Her thoughts drifted to the clutch she'd abandoned on her parents' sofa with her phone in it... the one she'd kept on silent mode these past few days so she wouldn't have to cope with the numerous calls and messages from Neal – her recent ex-boyfriend. She knew she couldn't avoid Neal forever, but dealing with one ex at a time was crucial to her mental health, especially when one of them was Killian Jones.

Emma swallowed before the next question, keeping her tone as nonchalant as possible. "So what held you up?" or rather, what was more important than meeting with an old flame he hadn't seen for almost a decade?

Her gaze followed him as he strode to the kitchen and pulled bottled water from the fridge. He tilted the bottle toward her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head, still waiting for his answer.

She took a few steps in his direction, closing some distance.

Killian leaned his hip into the counter and his head tipped back as he took a big gulp of water. Her gaze zeroed in on his throat. It was completely exposed and working on a swallow, and she felt an urge to nip it with her teeth, hard, and then tender.

When he set the bottle down, his tongue darted to lick his lips, a gesture that'd always managed to make the flesh between her legs tighten viciously.

"A potential new customer." He said finally.

"Oh." She didn't see that coming.

"It was a last minute thing, and since Liam isn't around…" he put the bottle back in the fridge. "I couldn't blow him off."

But he could blow her off? And for business?

Her stomach churned with fury and confusion. She knew work was a passion for Killian. Even as a teenager, adventurous and prone to risk-taking, he'd had diligence. And still, she didn't think she'd ever been more offended by a person she had such strong feelings for. A person who had once claimed to love her...

"The man is an influential member of a prestigious yacht club not far from here," Killian went on with restrained enthusiasm. "So it could mean a lot of new business."

"That's great." She tried to be excited for him, she really did. She also tried to not tense up and reveal her roiling emotions, but something must have betrayed her because his gaze warmed with concern. And for some reason it only hurt her even more.

"Is everything okay?"

Nothing was.

"Yeah," her eyes stung with unshed tears, her cue to flee before she embarrassed herself by crying. "I'll ah – " Clearing her throat to strengthen her voice, she gestured at the staircase. "I'll just wait upstairs." She turned to leave.

"Hey… hey…" his voice was soft like a soothing caress. And he stayed her with a hand on her bare arm, his fingers leaving trails of fire along her skin as they slid down to catch hers. Her gaze fell to her hand in his and she watched his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The feeling of the gentle pressure he exerted was heady. She closed her eyes, wishing he touched her elsewhere. _Everywhere_.

It wasn't fair that he could still affect her in this way. The slightest touch and she was ready – eager, actually – to drop her panties for him.

Mad or not, her body had always worshiped his.

"I truly am sorry." He gave her hand a tender squeeze and her heavy eyelids lifted so she could look at him. Her gaze darted over his face; it was calm and impassive, but his eyes were telling. There was something more than just sincerity in those blue depths; it seemed like true remorse, as if he were apologizing for something more than just being late.

His hand lifted to her face, but froze midair. Then he drew it back at same time she felt his other hand slipping away.

She should have just walked away, but his scent was messing with her head and the loss of physical contact had left her bereft and desperate to regain his touch.

Moving in fast – before she lost her courage – Emma dropped her mouth to his throat and shoved her hands under the back of his shirt to claw at his bare back, punishing Killian with teeth and nails until he hissed in pleasured pain.

In that moment all the turbulent emotions that had been rioting inside her, became too much to contain. And to fuck Killian out of her system seemed like a great idea. Until she felt him pulling away.

"Emma," he gasped, looking bewildered. His hands reached back for the edge of the counter and curled around the lip as if to rein himself in.

But she didn't let up. Reaching a hand behind her neck, she pulled at the blue tie and released her dress to slither down her body and puddle on the floor.

Emma knew she looked good in those black lacy boy shorts underwear and matching strapless bra; she knew she would look even better without them. All those sweat-drenched hours at the gym hadn't been for nothing. She had a hot body and she was proud of it. But Killian didn't move a muscle and his gaze hadn't left her eyes.

Always a gentleman…

Stepping out of her heels, she took the final step that separated them. But when she was about to crush her mouth against his, he cupped her face and restrained her.

Her heart sank in her chest. And she reminded herself that he'd been the one to break up with her, not the other way around. What if he didn't want her even for her body?

Looking into his intensely blue eyes was getting harder with every passing second. She had never felt more naked in her life and the fact that she was in her lingerie had nothing to do with it.

…

He shouldn't have done that; he shouldn't have touched her. But it had been so long and he'd missed her so much.

And now he'd been given a chance to enjoy Emma one more time, something he craved more than his next breath. But not like this. Not when she was looking at him like that, with eyes that reflected the depth of her wound. It killed him that she had to be at this place – hurting so much that she was willing to turn an act that was sacred for them into something ordinary. He didn't want rushed angry sex. What he wished was to say with his touch everything he would never allow himself to say with words.

_I love you. I miss you. I'm desperate for you. I'm nothing without you. I wish you were mine. I wish I never had to let you go. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And the worst_.

With his forehead against hers, he inhaled deeply. "Emma love," his voice came out so hoarse it was barely recognizable. "Slower, okay?" he closed his eyes and waited with bated breath until she nodded her agreement.

Angling his head to get the perfect access, he pressed his lips to hers and felt her tremble. He started out slow, his tongue licking across the seam of her lips, luring her to open for him. When she obliged, he dipped his tongue inside and brushed it against hers, tasting her in long leisurely strokes. She groaned against his mouth and the sweet sound vibrated through him. Whether it had been from pleasure or pain, he knew not. For him, it was both.

The smell of her silky soft skin surged his pining heart with life. It was intoxicating as the kiss itself. He couldn't get enough of her; he knew he never would. Her mouth was made for his. _She_ was made for him.

Their lips parted for a brief moment and she sucked in a slow, deep breath. Then a tear slid from the corner of her eye and he scrubbed it away with his thumb. His head canted to the other side and he took her mouth again with tender, slow licks, his lips coaxing and apologetic.

Wishing to kiss her pain away, he kissed her over and over, pouring all the love he held for her into every kiss. His mouth was tireless; he could kiss her until the sun rose in the sky and it would still not be enough.

Long minutes after, Emma broke the kiss with a soft sound and panted for breath.

He pulled back to look at her and tucked a golden strand behind her ear. "You're nervous." He whispered, his fingertips gliding reverently across her flushed, breathtaking face.

The way she studied him made his chest hurt. "What makes you say that?"

"You taste like cinnamon." He licked the spicy sweet taste off his lips. "Still need your big red hit?"

She used to munch on those wrigleys before midterms, a habit he'd never been able to understand. What Emma Swan had to be nervous about when it was obvious to everyone – well, everyone except her – that she was going to ace yet another test.

"You say it as if I'm a drug addict." The clipped tone told him she didn't appreciate him reminiscing.

"That's not what I meant." He shook his head, searching for something to say that would mellow her out. "I found it endearing that you never knew how smart you were." He ran his hands down her arms and smiled softly at her, but she averted her gaze. There was a moment of silence; then he took a deep breath and asked, "Would it help if I say I'm nervous too?"

Emma visibly tensed and looked at him through slitted green eyes. "Don't mock me."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, his heart twisting painfully at the fact she thought he'd do that. "I'm not." Encircling her wrist with his fingers, Killian gently slid her hand through the opening of his shirt and placed her palm over his heart, letting her feel it pounding wildly in his chest. "See?" he held her gaze.

There was another moment of silence, but it was of a different kind and he watched her eyes softening a bit more with every beat of his heart.

Letting out a shaky breath, Emma backed him against the counter and looked up at him.

The fact that her warm, lush body was now pressed against his and her face was again close enough for him to see the smattering of light freckles on her cheeks, soothed the agitation he'd felt since she'd stepped out of his life.

"You're so beautiful," the back of his fingers brushed across her cheek as he admired her incomparable beauty. How had he lived so long without seeing that face?

The ghost of a smile that touched her lips was enough to get his heart rate kicking up. Then she licked her lips in invitation and he knew there was no going back.

Sealing his mouth over hers in a leisurely tilt of his head, Killian gripped the back of her thighs and hefted her up so he could carry her to bed.

A rush of delight swept through him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders. But the ferocity of her reciprocating kiss was what got to him the most and his chest tightened with a yearning he was sure would crush him when she left again.


	5. Taste of Perfection

She had always wondered how he managed to carry their combined weight without as much as a stumble. The back and forth rocking motion of the boat which should have challenged Killian's stability as he carried her down the hall, had zero effect on his sturdy, unhurried stride.

Killian came to a halt and pressed her back against the wall right outside the cabin. Their cabin, the one in which he'd ruined her for other men.

The memory of their first time caught her breath; then he kissed her and stole it completely.

His kisses weren't as good as she recalled. They were impossibly better. Killian had the softest of lips and the smoothest of tongues, but the finesse with which he moved them against her mouth was what got her panties soaked. The man wasn't just another great kisser; he was in a league by himself. Each stroke of his tongue made her whimper her desperation for the feel of him. And if she weren't so overwhelmed by their renewed closeness, she probably would have ridden his cock to oblivion by now.

Before she was aware of any movement, they were inside the cuddy and Killian sat on the edge of the bed with her straddling him. The white comforter was cool and soft against her bare knees, but there was another softness she'd been dying to feel since she saw him at the docks minutes after her return. So now that her arms were free from holding on to him, she shoved both hands in his shower-damp raven hair.

She'd dated men with all different kinds of hairstyles, but none had quite the hair as Killian. It was silky soft and a little long, just enough so she could clench it in her fist and pull if the need arose. In a word – perfect. And the rest of him… years later and her brain still couldn't wrap itself around the fact that she had gotten her hands on such a gorgeous man.

His fingertips brushed across her stomach and the feather-light touch sent a shiver down her spine. "Are you hungry?" he asked with his lips to her throat, reminding her that they were supposed to be having dinner.

_For you_.

"No." She breathed, arching her neck to grant his mouth more access.

When he sucked gently on her pulse, she had to bite her lower lip to stifle a moan. Christ. His mouth hadn't lost the ability to drive her insane. And for a moment, she was certain he'd be able to get her off just by suckling long enough.

His lips slid up her throat, then pressed a chaste kiss to the skin just below her ear. "Good. 'Cause we're going to be a while." The promise in his voice excited her and thoughts of sheet-clawing sex came to mind.

But then he pulled back and looked at her with an admiration that caused her heart to stutter. There was no doubt that Killian had something else on his mind.

He cupped her neck, his thumbs stroking gently along her jaw. "Still stunning," his low voice caressed her senses. "You haven't changed at all."

Perhaps on the outside, but on the inside she wasn't the same young girl he'd dated. She might have put up a good front – day in and day out, for several years now – but the truth was that something inside of her was broken beyond repair.

Or maybe the man who broke her was the only one who could help her heal.

Looking at his handsome face, Emma remembered how easy it was to get lost in the warmth of his dazzling blue eyes. They got her so riveted that everything beside him ceased to exist.

His hands moved down her neck to her bare shoulders and the brush of his skin against hers sent tingles of awareness coursing through her, reminding her she was still in her lacy lingerie and he in his dress shirt and boxer briefs.

Emma tugged on his hair and scooted closer, closing the distance between their bodies. Through the two thin layers of clothes she could feel that he was as aroused as she was, his magnificent cock hard and thick against her lace covered core.

Desire simmered in her veins and her sex spasmed with the need to rub against him and use his thick length to pleasure herself. Her body was strung so tight that she was sure it would take no more than a couple of strokes for her to come. But she fought the urge, not wanting to embarrass herself by showing just how much she had been desperate for his touch.

Setting her hands against his pectorals, she felt the hard ridges of muscle tighten under her fingers. She craved to see his bare chest and the light dusting of dark hair that had always made her clit throb for attention.

With tentative fingers, she began working on the buttons of his shirt. Killian hurried to grant her wish, reaching behind her to unbutton his sleeves, and then yanking the material off without waiting for her to finish opening the front.

Her gaze fell to his marvelously tight torso. His muscles were hard and well defined, his build lean yet powerful.

Aroused by the sight – as she was by everything about him – the slick flesh between her legs ached for the hard drives of his big cock. She threaded her fingers through the crisp hairs of his chest, keen to see his body atop hers dripping with hardworking sweat.

Killian gentled her with marked patience, his hands in her hair, sifting through it. His lips traced her features…brushed her cheekbone…slid over the curve of her brow.

He was in no rush to undress her, and she knew what he was striving for. Killian had never settled for less than a hundred percent of her soul, and it didn't look like he was going to start now. His desire was to have her stripped down completely, not only from her clothes, but also from her walls. He wanted her trembling and vulnerable beneath him, making sure that when he pushed into her, both her body and heart would be at his mercy.

Emma rubbed at the knot of fear in her stomach.

Letting him in also meant giving him the power to hurt her. Something she was certain she wouldn't survive again.

Not that she had a choice… She was falling under his spell, deeper with every passing moment, and she didn't even put up a fight, knowing it would be as effective as trying to stop an approaching train with nothing but her bare hands.

His fingertips stroked up and down her shoulder blades while teeth and tongue teased her earlobe.

For the last decade she'd longed for this – feeling wanted by him, sharing a breath with him, being touched sensually rather than sexually.

He was making her feel like a virgin again, his touch tender, and his movements cautious, as if she were breakable. And at that moment she was no longer Emma Swan, one of the top ten CMOs in Manhattan. She was a teenager again, hot with hormones and madly in love.

Then his mouth was on hers again, swallowing her surprised gasp. It was another confident, skilled kiss that had just the right amount of passion to turn her on wildly.

Focused only on the sensations he stoked in her body, she cupped his whisker-rough chin with one hand and kissed him back voraciously. Killian groaned into her mouth and her toes curled at the sound.

The hands he had at her back, slid down to her hips. And with a gentle yet unyielding grip, he lured her to grind into him.

His hands and mouth were a lethal combination that did sinful things to her already raging libido. Within seconds, her mind lost control on her body and she began rocking into his erection; her hips working toward a release she needed desperately. She dropped her mouth to his shoulder, teeth sinking to stem her cries as she came hard. So hard that her body shuddered against his with every pulse of pleasure.

Killian cupped the back of her head, holding her close as her body quivered with aftershocks. The way he held her reminded her of that moment that had been caught on camera and found its way into their yearbook. They had been in the same position they were now, only fully clothed and in a distant corner on the grass of their schoolyard. He'd had his back against a tree and she'd hid her flushed face in the crook of his neck, smiling with embarrassment after she'd had a mind-blowing orgasm from his kisses alone.

She'd once thought that the visual documentation had made that moment impossible to forget. But even long after she'd gotten rid of that tiny proof of reality, the memory – like many others from their years together – kept lingering in her mind.

…

With her hands on his shoulders for balance, she lifted lazily off of him, then shifted on the bed and sat back on her heels, her hands on her thighs.

He twisted at the waist and when she leaned forward and offered her lips for a kiss, the rest of his body followed. His fists pressed against the mattress to support his body weight as he folded over her and devoured her mouth.

Emma drank him in, sliding her open mouth desperately across his, licking and tasting. "Killian…" her voice was raspy from her high. The orgasm hadn't smoothed the jagged edges of her lust at all. If anything, it only deepened her hunger for him.

Pushing her hands in his hair, she canted her head and sucked on his tongue; remembering how much he liked it, remembering how much she liked it. The growls that spilled from his throat were the most gratifying sounds she'd ever heard. And they went straight to her core, making her feel she might lose her mind if he didn't get inside her. Now.

She leaned back and pulled him by the neck with her, then reached one hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. "I want you, Killian." Bad. She couldn't recall wanting anything or anyone more than she wanted him at that moment.

"Let me get protection," his lips pressed a soft kiss to hers. "I'll be just a second," he began to pull away when she reached for his arm.

Emma was not one to compromise when it came to safe sex. She was on birth control and always insisted that her partner – even if he were a steady one – use a condom. And after so many years, Killian was no less a stranger than a one-nighter. Yet she heard herself saying, "No need, we're good."

Their gazes met.

And when his eyes glittered and his lips curved into a heart-stopping smile, she became even more confident in her decision. She wanted to feel him, all of him. Killian Jones was no random guy at a bar. He was the man of her dreams; literally. The one man she had never been able to scrub away from her mind no matter how hard she'd tried.

And now that she'd gotten another taste of perfection, she wasn't sure she ever could. Her heart began to pound in her chest. The thought of life after this – after him – scared the hell out of her.

She took off her underwear and watched him do the same as she settled on her back on the comforter. Then the mattress dipped as he climbed after her, and her thighs slid apart to accommodate the width of his hips.

His hovering body was hot like a blast furnace, radiating heat that managed to melt away the spine-chilling thought. It was just the two of them now, and nothing else mattered. Her focus solely on Killian as he settled between her spread legs, his erection lying hard and hot between them and his forearms placed flat on the bed at her sides, tucking her arms between his and her body.

As he took her mouth again, she willingly surrendered to him and moaned without shame.

She thought of how Killian accomplished the impossible; he had her lying beneath him like she never believed she'd be again – open legs and open heart, ready to let him in deep to where only he'd once been.

His hand wrapped the back of her knee and slid upward along her thigh in a soft, smooth glide while his kiss-swollen lips trailed from her mouth, to her jaw, to the sensitive spot in front of her ear. Then his fingers reached the curve of her hip and kneaded, the restless movement betraying him – there was something he was holding back. Emma felt the warmth of his breath on her ear and thought he might have whispered something, but she didn't catch it if he did. And before she got a chance to give it a second thought, his tongue was in her mouth and the broad head of his cock at her entrance.

Crying softly at the searing pleasure of his entry, she closed her eyes and arched her back. One slick glide home and nine years slithered away as if they had never come between them at all.

Killian soundly tore his mouth from hers and lifted his head to gaze down at her. She forced her heavy-lidded eyes open and watched him from beneath her lashes. His body was utterly still except for the heavy rise and fall of his chest and his cock was shoved so deep that the lips of her sex hugged the wide root of his penis. He was cramming her too full, yet it was nothing compared to what he was doing to her heart. The look he had in those stormy blue eyes – the one she had once interpreted as love – filled her chest with an aching delight until it felt too small to contain it. Whether it was love or not… It didn't matter anymore. She wished someone would look at her like that every day for the rest of her life.

Linking his fingers with hers, he withdrew partway before gliding to the hilt once more.

Instinctively, her hand tightened on his as she felt the burn of stretching inner muscles and sensitive tissues. She wanted to shift slightly and ease the exquisite bite of discomfort, but was held pinned by his gaze.

It was scorching hot, yet tender and searching.

Emma didn't know what he was looking for, but could only guess his look mirrored her own. She'd pay a whole lot more than a penny for his thoughts. Did this mean the same to him as it did to her?

With her free hand she reached for his cheek and ran her fingers over his stubble, remembering a time when it had been her prerogative to touch him whenever she pleased.

Turning his head, he caught her hand against his shoulder and kissed her palm. "God, you feel so good." He let out a deep breath. Then he was thrusting. Long and slow. And now that he was coated with the slickness of her desire, she was taking him more easily.

His hand slid under her back. The position altered the angle of her hips so that the thick crest of his penis hit a tender place inside her. With a steady rhythm, he was working her toward an intense vaginal orgasm.

The relentless, determined drives reminded her the weeks he'd spend searching for that spot with the same determination.

Her nails raked his back from shoulders to hips and he arched into the rough caress with a low growl. His bare chest glistened with sweat, his abs tightening and flexing every time he plunged into her.

Their eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where they connected. Her cunt was fluttering around him, squeezing, trembling.

So close to the edge, aching fear crept up her spine. She didn't want this to be over. Determined to hold off an orgasm, she clenched her thighs close and bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

Attuned to her – as he always had been – he stilled at the subtlest sign of resistance.

Feeling her face heat with embarrassment, she hurried to close her eyes.

One of his hands was warm and tender against her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. His thumb went to the corner of her mouth and gently released her captured lip.

Killian licked the blood off the bruised flesh, his tongue a velvet caress of comforting pleasure.

As he pulled back, she listened to his heavy breathing and felt his gaze sliding over her face. Consumed with wanting him, she could barely think long enough to fight the urge to bite her lip again.

He grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Emma, look at me," the softness in his voice soothed her. "Please."

She did. And saw tremendous yearning on his beautiful face, as if she wouldn't get down on her knees and beg for him to fuck her.

"I missed you." His words were accompanied by an undeniable sincere gaze that chased away the last of her reservations. She let herself drown in his blue eyes, the desirable outcome of this visit altering by the second.

She wanted to say the words back – missing him had been her daily reality after all – but her throat was too tight. Instead, she yanked his mouth down to meet hers and let her thighs fall open.

Killian's mouth slanted across hers with a ferocity he hadn't displayed earlier, as if his words unleashed something inside of him, too. Then he was moving again, stretching her delectably every time he slid back in. His tempo slow and measured. And he seemed to be exploiting his familiarity with her body to make her writhe helplessly beneath him. The arm at the small of her back keeping her angled the way he wanted as the wide crown of his cock rubbed that aching spot inside her over and over.

She cried with pleasure, rippling around him as the orgasm brewed inside her. Her hands were in his hair and she tugged on the silky strands, using them to rip his mouth from hers. "Touch me," she breathed and arched her back, raising her breasts to him. Emma didn't want his restraint, not when she'd began unraveling the moment he'd sealed his mouth over hers.

A hand at her waist slowly slid up her side until it cupped her delicate ribcage. His thumb was taunting her with gentle strokes just beneath the fullness of her breast.

Her head pressed hard into the pillow, her breasts aching for his touch. And as she questioned her ability to take anymore teasing, the pad of his thumb brushed her hardened nipple and sent heated delight rushing through her.

He held her gaze, making her feel the familiar searing connection between them while he kept pushing pleasure through her aching body.

Emma sobbed out his name as the orgasm hit her. It started with convulsions of her walls and radiated outward until she was trembling all over. All the while he was watching her fall.

Captivated by his stare, she couldn't look away or close her eyes. And it struck her that he was the only man she'd shared this high level of intimacy with.

Rolling his hips, he ground against her clit and threw her into another climax directly on the heels of the previous one. The sensation was devastating and she cried again, if she'd ever stopped. Her body tightened and shook, the pleasure blackening her vision and stealing her strength.

When she regained consciousness, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed her calves against the hard flexing flesh of his ass, spurring him on, urging him to move faster.

He didn't. But he did push his fingers in her hair and clenched the golden locks in a possessive grip as he kept driving into her with the same perfect rhythm. Then he held still at the deepest point, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to her cheek. " _Ah, Emma_ …" he came with a tormented groan, quaking and flooding her with his heat as the pleasure tore into him for long minutes.

Still trying to catch his breath, he nuzzled his sweat-slick temple against hers.

It made her smell like him. And she couldn't say that she minded.

With him everything was different…

Emma hated it whenever a man crushed her after sex and she couldn't push away the smothering weight fast enough. Yet with Killian – needing to have him as close as she could get him – she was the one to urge his body down to hers. And with her arms around his shoulders, she clutched him to her in a strangling embrace.

A rush of relief washed over her when he didn't retreat or complain. Then tears slid in rivulets down her temples when he banded his arms around her back and held her just as tightly.

What she felt for him in that moment was so intense that any attempt to deny it became futile.

She had no idea why he left her. She still didn't know if he ever loved her. But she knew this one thing – she wanted him back.


	6. Hot and Cold

Emma woke to moonlit darkness and an empty bed; the sound of water lapping against the hull of the boat an unnecessary reminder of where she was. She'd never forget this night with Killian. Maybe she'd never forget him, period.

Not that she wanted to. Not anymore.

In the last couple of hours her world had turned on its head. All of her plans flew right out the window the moment Killian pushed inside her, and were replaced by a single-minded desire.

She wanted to have the first man who'd claimed her body and heart back in her life.

First loves were impossible to forget; everyone knew that. And throughout the years she'd told herself it was the reason she couldn't get Killian out of her head. But this night had proven her wrong. Now she knew that whether Killian had been her first, second or third, he'd still be the only one.

Being with him, making love to him, not only felt good, it felt _right_. And for the first time in a long time her life finally made sense again.

Nine years ago, after he'd ended their relationship, she'd wanted nothing to do with him ever again. But now… now she was willing to let go of the past for another shot with him. He'd been just a kid back then. They both were. Perhaps forever was just too big of a promise to expect of anyone to keep at such a young age.

It would be different now. They were older. Wiser. The years had taught her that not trying and not fighting were in fact the greater risks in life. So this time she would do whatever it took to make it work between them.

Of course it wouldn't be easy with the four hundred miles physical distance between their lives, but they would cross that bridge when they came to it. First, she needed to get Killian on board with the getting-back-together idea.

Tossing the covers aside, she rose to her feet and went to the foot of the bed where Killian had laid out her clothes and one of his zip-up hoodies.

Stark naked, she picked up the sweatshirt she recognized from their high school days and inhaled the vestiges of Killian. God she loved the way he smelled. And the mere possibility of getting up to that scent every day had a smile teasing her mouth.

Excitement thrummed through her. She couldn't wait to see Killian; talk to him, kiss him, and make love to him again.

And again…

She wriggled into her boyshorts and clasped her bra. Then threw the dress over her body and quickly tied the necktie. On her way to the bathroom, she slipped into the hoodie and zipped it up.

After doing her business and freshening up, Emma went to the upper deck.

The hem of her dress whipped gently in the night breeze, invigorating her even further.

She sat and gazed at the stars, remembering with delight the many hours she had done the same, only with her head against Killian's chest. She eagerly waited for him to show so they could start creating new memories together.

…

Emma felt him before she saw him. She always did. Something shifted in the air whenever Killian was around; his presence like an electric force, demanding her undivided attention.

Looking over her shoulder, she stared at him in greedy pleasure.

With a large to-go coffee cup in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, Killian paused at the top of the gangway. His blue eyes softened when he met her gaze, and an enchanting smile curved his lips. It wasn't a full-blown smile, yet it was enough to make her heart stop.

He looked scrumptious, dressed in a dark T-shirt and faded, ripped jeans. Aware of the fact that Killian had never been into fashion trends, she guessed the tears were a result of work and wear; which only added to his already massive sex appeal.

She watched him approaching, his long legs closing the distance between them with an easy, strong stride. Her breathing quickening with every step he took.

"Figured you'd be hungry," Killian set the bag and cup in front of her before he sat beside her. "It looks good on you," fingering the sweatshirt, he looked into her eyes and her heartbeat became as ragged as her breathing. "Always have." He smiled and turned his head to gaze at the bowsprit in front of them, gently bumping shoulders with her.

_You look good on me_ , she thought as she kept her gaze on him, wishing he'd kissed her instead. _Always have_.

Emma knew he felt her stare, but she didn't care. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he sat there with his unruly hair and breathtaking face.

After a long moment, he reached for the cup and handed it to her. "Wouldn't want it to get cold." Their fingers brushed and the urge to run her hands all over his body was overwhelming.

She smiled and took a sip, but the moment the drink hit her taste buds, she winced at the taste. "Jesus, fuck." One hand covered her mouth. "What is this?"

"Cocoa." A frown knit the space between his brows. "With cinnamon."

"I don't drink that" – she swallowed the word shit – "stuff anymore…" glancing at his baffled expression, she regretted reacting so strongly and felt the need to explain. "It's just too much sugar."

"Right." Killian gave a sage nod, looking as awkward as she felt. "Water then?" he recovered fast, reaching for the bag and pulling out a bottle.

"Thanks," her lips curved into a slow smile and she took the offered drink, even though she was dying for a dose of caffeine that would give her courage to say what was on her mind.

He unwrapped a sandwich that smelled divine. "How about grilled cheese? Did you give up on that, too?" taking a bite, he hummed at the taste and fixed his gaze on her, his blue eyes taking on that mischievous glint.

It was a dare. She knew it was. The knowledge of the extent of her addiction was there on his smug face.

"Not a chance. Give it to me." She made him laugh by snatching the crusty bread and attacking it with her teeth. The joyful, throaty sound sent warmth flowing through her. It felt good to be able to laugh with him. And it made her want to bite him, but she knew they needed to talk before they jumped into the sack again, so she settled for another bite at the toasted cheese. At least for now…

"Umm…" she moaned when she got a full hit of the flavor. In all of Manhattan she couldn't find a grilled cheese sandwich as good as Granny's. "How'd you convince Granny to open at this hour?" she wondered, remembering Granny as a strict, tough old lady. "I think her age makes her immune to your charms…"

He smiled. But it was a tight smile. "I have a friend who has her own set of keys." His wandering gaze told her the woman in question was more than just a friend.

Suddenly she lost her appetite.

Emma placed the half-eaten sandwich in the bag and wiped her mouth and hands. "You didn't ask me why I'm here." She decided not to let jealousy get the better of her. "Don't you want to know?"

"Of course."

They both watched a dove landing on the railing.

"I got a proposal," her voice was clam, she was anything but. "A marriage proposal, my boyfriend asked me to marry him." She looked in time to see Killian's brows shoot up.

He stared at her a moment, and then nodded. "One last adventure before tying the knot?" his sad smile said everything he didn't.

As much as she'd wanted to hurt him just a few hours ago, she couldn't stand to do it now.

"I didn't say yes." She studied him, her gaze darting over his face. "I actually broke things off with him."

"Why?" he turned his head and gazed at the railing again, even though the white two-legged bird was no longer there. "Was he not good to you?"

"He was." She sighed, feeling a slight pang in her heart. Nothing could absolve her of the guilt for not feeling the same as the man she'd dated for the past two years. "But he wasn't you."

His gaze snapped back to her. He looked rattled, but not overjoyed about her confession.

"I came to prove to myself that being with you couldn't possibly as good as I remembered, that you're flawed just like – "

"Love, I can assure you I'm flawed to the bone."

"Perhaps you're not perfect." She shrugged, holding his gaze. "But you are for me."

"Emma I ah… " his voice trailed off as if he couldn't find the words to say. Then he looked anywhere but at her.

Her gut knotted with each moment that passed; her biggest nightmare was coming to life. Killian didn't feel the same as she did. But if that were truly the case then why had he made love to her like that? Her gaze fell to the ground, thoughts swirling around in her head, a cluster of fresh recollections from the intimate hours they had just shared confusing her even further. He'd kissed her, touched her, and held her as if it had been painful for him to live without her. And now…

She looked at him. "Are you going to say something?"

His answer was to bury his head in his hands.

A stomach-flipping thought hit her with excruciating force. It was good-bye sex. He'd wanted to get her out of his system as much as she did. And maybe what set them apart was that he'd succeeded. Feeling sick, she closed her eyes and let the admission slide through her. Her throat burned with tears as she pushed to her feet and moved to pass him.

"Where are you going?" Killian stood and caught her elbow.

"Home." She was barefoot and she didn't care; she just wanted to get away from the person who'd become an enormous source of misery in her life.

"Let me walk you."

Like hell she would. She hadn't lost her mind just yet. The last thing she needed was a rerun of the painful moment outside her parents' house where he'd dumped her the first time. God, nine years and nothing had changed. Only this wasn't a break-up because they weren't even together. And still…it hurt all the same.

"No thanks." She wrenched away from him.

"It's the middle of the night. I can't let you go alone." He insisted.

"Sure you can. And rest assured, of all the ungentlemanly things you did, this won't even make it to the top ten." Truth was that even with this twisted game of hot and cold, Killian was still the gentlest and most considerate man she'd ever dated, but she was too pissed off to pay attention to her own choice of words.

Not that it made a difference. Killian didn't even seem to register, let alone take offense at the insult. "Emma, let me walk you home." He reached for her and she stepped back quickly.

"It's just Storybrooke, Killian... The only person I might run into is Archie taking Pongo for his late night stroll. Besides, you don't have to worry about me – which I doubt you do – I took self-defense classes."

"Why'd you take self-defense classes?"

"Seriously? _This_ is what you want to talk about?"

Shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he let out a deep breath. "What do you want to talk about?" He rocked back on his heels.

It was her chance to get answers to nine year old questions that had been gnawing at her to the point of madness. So she seized the one that mattered to her the most. "Did you ever love me, Killian?"

He stilled; his gaze soft and warm on her face. "More than words can say."

"What a load of crap."

Killian sucked in a sharp breath, his face contorting with pain. "Don't say that." He shook his head.

"How come you decided to drop college then? Why didn't you come with me?" her tone was harsh, demanding answers.

"I wasn't exactly college material."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's complicated, I…" he clearly struggled with himself. "I just had to stay here."

Irritation flamed through her at his evasiveness. "Okay fine." She crossed her arms. "Then how come you didn't ask me to stay with you?"

"You were so excited about going to college. You kept saying it was your ticket out of here." He smiled at the memory. But his eyes were filled with torment. "Isn't it what you've always wanted? To get the hell out of this town?"

"Not without y-you." Her voice broke, tears welling as she still felt the horrible ache inside her at the separation from the one person her body craved like a drug. "I was miserable without you. You should have asked me to stay." More tears fell and she wiped them impatiently away. Sniffling, she forced herself to regain her composure. "In fact, you should ask me to stay right now."

Maybe she was handling it all wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have ripped herself open like that. But she was tired of pretending. Tired of a life without him.

He fell silent again.

Never in a million years had she thought silence could cause so much pain. Every part of her body hurt as if she'd been hit by a bus. She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling as tears slipped free and ran down her face, blurring her vision. But even without seeing clearly she knew he was avoiding her gaze. _Avoiding her_.

The contrast to just a couple of hours ago was profound. Then, Killian had kept his intense gaze on her the entire time he'd made love to her. And now… he wouldn't even glance her way.

Despite the pain, she brushed the tears away and took the length of two heartbeats to memorize his features before she'd have to walk away from him for what felt like the last time. Damn him and his good-looks. She still wanted him, still loved him; she would have begged if she thought it would make him change his mind. Her eyes stung with fresh tears. God, he'd made her weak. So damn weak.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to stem her cries much longer, she unzipped his hoodie and handed it to him.

Killian waved a hand, refusing to accept the piece of clothing. "Keep it." He kept his head bowed and gazed at the deck.

Not a chance. She didn't want any souvenirs from her trip to hell. "At least have the decency to look me in the eye when you break my heart!" Her voice was clogged with emotion as she shoved the sweatshirt against his chest, forcing him to take it.

The push sent him stumbling back, but the bastard still wouldn't look at her. Or say another word.

Emma wrapped her arms around her middle and walked away from him. She managed to wait until she was off the boat to start crying.


	7. Turn Back Time

He couldn't look at her, couldn't watch her heart shatter in front of his eyes. Not again. The first time had already been one time too many.

But he couldn't let her go either; at least not without the knowledge that he truly loved her. He owed her that much.

Killian scarcely registered the sweatshirt slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor; then he was off the boat and right on her tracks.

With a sexy halter dress clinging to an even sexier body, Emma was walking briskly and he hurried to keep up. "Emma, wait." He reached for her arm, but she yanked it away and sped up. Glancing at her bare feet, he chased after her. "Stop running, you can cut your foot like that."

"Go away, Killian." Her hoarse broken voice hurt his heart. It was painful for him to hear her cry. It was even more painful for him to know that he was responsible. When they were together, anyone who'd dared bring a single tear to her eye, had to answer to him, but now, he had done it.

He caught her by the waist.

"Don't," she sobbed, trying to push his arm away with both hands, nails digging into his forearm. "Just leave me alone."

"No." Killian steeled his grip and wrapped another arm around her, confining her in a bear hug. With his chest pressed against her back, he could feel her body shaking with suppressed sobs. His eyes squeezed shut. The inability to stop her pain was so agonizing it was crippling. He'd do anything – anything and everything – to put a smile back on her beautiful face.

Bending his knees, he lifted her off her feet.

"Stop it!" Her cries turned into growls of frustration. "Put me down!"

He didn't. Instead, he carried her back to the boat. Emma kicked at him, flailing. Hard. Yet not hard enough to make him stop. If she'd really learned how to defend herself, she should have been able to fight him off. So maybe she just didn't want to.

The moment his sports shoes hit the top deck floor, he set her down on her feet, but his arms kept her imprisoned. He nuzzled his cheek against her temple, his breath gusting hard and fast over her ear. "Stop fighting me and hear me out." Her scent was inebriating and he had to fight the urge to turn her around and take her mouth in a desperate kiss. Knowing that hadn't worked so well for them the last time…

"Are you going to ask me to stay?" Emma was antsy, her words coming clipped and fast.

If she only knew what her question was doing to him. There was nothing more that he wanted, yet nothing more that he was _not_ willing to do. The entire situation was killing him.

When he didn't answer, she made a frustrated noise and struggled in his hold. "Let me go!"

Killian tightened his arms around her, restraining her. With his face pressed into her hair, he hissed through clenched teeth, "Listen to me!" he felt her still at the commanding tone of his voice. "I have nothing to offer you."

Emma tipped her head back to look at him through reddened eyes. She studied him for a moment, then all the fight left her body and she went lax in his arms.

He released her and waited until she turned around to face him.

Looking at the gorgeous woman in front of him – who even after crying, looked none the worse for wear – he remembered the captivatingly beautiful girl she'd once been and was reminded of a lost time when he hadn't had a care in the world. But while he had been playing house and making future plans with Emma, his older brother had been dealing with greater issues in their lives; issues that had eventually caught up with him as well.

"My parents..." he detested the gruffness of his voice. It reminded him why he never talked about this. "When they died… they left behind _hundreds of thousands'_ worth of debt. That's why we're living here." He gestured at the staircase that led to the lower deck. "Liam and I sold the house, but it's still not enough." Not even close. "It would take us years – if not decades – to pay it all back." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and shook his head. "Believe me when I say I never meant to lead you on. I _didn't_ know... Liam told me only after we graduated. By then it was too late… you and I were already in too deep…"

Emma's eyes were so dilated that the green of her irises was a mere sliver around the black center. "This is why you broke up with me? You thought it would have made a difference to me? You thought if I knew I would have left you, so might as well leave me first?"

"I knew that you wouldn't."

Her head jolted back and she looked even more confused. "Then I don't understand…" her gaze narrowed and vulnerability sifted through her beautiful green eyes. "Why didn't you want me then?"

"Emma…" His chest expanded on a deep breath. "I wanted you... _Of course_ I wanted you..." letting her go was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "Understand me love, I was at a dead-end. I had no choice and there was nothing I could do about it." He still couldn't. "But you… you had a bright future ahead of you…" and there hadn't been a doubt in his mind that she'd live up to her potential. "I knew a clean break was the only way to make sure I wouldn't ruin that for you. It was bad enough that I was drowning" – his voice strengthened – "I was sure as hell wasn't going to drag you down with me."

She paled.

"You deserved better than this – " he rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the ache that made it hard to breathe. He knew she wanted to experience life to the fullest. Living in the big city… traveling to see the world… it was a life he was never going to be able to give her. The recognition that she was better off with another man shredded him. "You deserve better than someone who is in debt up to his neck. You deserve someone who can buy you a home and take you places… not someone who can't even take you out on a proper date."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then, "You had no right!" The color came back into her face in an angry rush. "You had no right making that decision for me!"

Killian looked at her. She was staring at him. Wide-eyed. Her shoulders were stiff and her jaw tight. He'd never seen her so furious. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone this furious.

"Love listen to me, I'm not saying you don't have the right to be angry, but think about this for a minute." His voice was soft with compassion. "If you stayed here, eventually you would have resented me – "

"I would never!"

Had she forgotten everything she'd dreamed of? The excitement she'd felt about leaving Storybrooke and going to college? How badly she'd wanted to pursue a career she could be passionate about? If she'd been forced to give it all up… resentment would have been only a matter of time.

"You say that now… after you've seen what's out there. But if you didn't… you would have always wondered what if."

Something inside of her must have snapped, because she dropped to her knees and began to sob with an intensity that broke his heart.

The need to soothe her was so acute it was unbearable. "Emma love…" there was a tremor in his voice. He crouched and reached out to her, but she shook her head violently and kept him at bay with an upheld hand.

…

Emma felt like the ground had dropped out from beneath her feet. With her hands covering her face, she was gasping and crying like never before. The tears came in a torrent and there was no way for her to stop them.

She was so mad at Killian, she could hit him. She wanted to. But what good would that do? And in a way… even if she hated his decision with everything she had, she could understand the reasoning behind it.

She was also mad at herself. After almost three years together, how could she have not sensed that something was off with Killian? She'd been so wrapped up in her pain that she'd been blind to everything else. She wished to turn back time so she could tell that young girl to look past her own insecurities and get to the bottom of the breakup. If she'd known back then what she knew now…

A hand went to cover her mouth, muffling the horrible sound that escaped her. Images from the last nine years were tormenting; holidays, birthdays, every damned day she'd spent nursing the pain instead of being with the man she loved.

God. They had lost so much time… she needed to make sure they wouldn't lose another minute.

Wiping her face with both hands, she felt a hesitant hand on her back. "Emma…I'm sorry…" Killian's voice was laced with pain and regret. "I had no idea you still cared." His hand rubbed up and down her back, which made her realize she was trembling. "I figured you would move on..." as she listened to him talk she wondered whether he was joking or just plain crazy for thinking he was that easy to get over. "I mean, have you seen you? You can have anyone you want – "

"I didn't want someone else!" Sobbing, she pushed to her feet and he followed. Her stomach cramping as if he'd hit her with the full force of his fist. "Did my love mean _nothing_ to you?"

Killian cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs lifting her chin up to meet his gaze. "It held the world." His blue eyes were filled with longing. "I just wanted what was best for you. I still do."

"You want what's best for me, Killian?" she asked and he nodded. "Then ask me to stay damnit!" her hands wrapped around his wrists and held tight. "You are what's best for me. What more do I have to say for you to realize that? That I was devastated without you? That I felt like my heart had been hacked out of my chest? That there were nights I couldn't _breathe_ for missing you?" her strangled voice was barely a whisper now. "I don't want to live without you…I can't…" she shook her head as more tears coursed down her face. "I won't."

"Love…" the reservation in his voice was crystal clear now that she knew why he'd left her. Now that she knew that it hadn't been because he hadn't loved her, but because he had loved her too much.

"Don't make me beg, Killian…" but she was already halfway there. The tears clogged her throat and made her lose her voice so she caught his gaze and held it, then mouthed, _ask. me. to. stay._

"Emma…just…" his eyes grew shiny with tears. "Just wait."

For what?

But he was already hurrying to the berth deck, leaving her to stare after him.


	8. Until I Met You

When Killian came back up, the moon lit his face, revealing damp face and reddened eyes. She thought he'd gone down there because he needed a moment to himself – Killian was never the one to cry in front of anyone – but then she noticed he was holding something.

It was a small, heart-shaped wooden box. Just the size to fit a dime. Or a ring.

"Killian…" she exhaled softly, her gaze on the box.

He stepped closer and she noticed it was hand-carved. Killian's hands worked magic when it came to the things he was passionate about. He could take an old, broken boat and turn it into a sharp, beautiful vessel. So regardless of what was inside the box, the fact that he'd made it himself showed how precious she was to him.

With a finger under her chin, he lifted her gaze to meet his. "I was going to give it to you after graduation." He smiled, but his eyes were impossibly sad. "I wanted everyone around campus to know that you were mine."

Agony overwhelmed her excitement and clogged her throat. The fact that his plans had been brutally crushed by a harsh reality made her heart bleed like an open wound at how devastated he must have been.

"I don't want to rush you – "

"Rush me?" she laughed through her tears. "If anything, I'd say it's long overdue." That made him smile. For real this time. When he didn't say anything, her brows rose. "Well?"

"Impatient, are we?" he taunted, quirking a brow. It felt good seeing that playful side of him again, so good it squeezed her heart with an aching delight. But before she could think of any witty comeback, he caught her hand and his smile faded. "Emma…" he inhaled deeply, his voice taking on a serious tone. "I want to talk to your parents first."

She frowned. "This is not the nineteenth century, Killian. We don't need my parents' permission to get married."

"We don't need their permission," he argued softly. "But I would like to have their blessing."

_Good luck with that_. Emma knew how her father felt about Killian. The day she'd left for Columbia – after having spent a sleepless night crying her eyes out – her dad had been more than willing to break the neck of the boy who had ruined her. And he probably would have hurt Killian one way or another, if it weren't for her mom who'd insisted he stayed out of his daughter's love life.

"I think my dad would rather have an ulcer than give me away to you…"

Killian chuckled.

"What?" Emma crossed her arms, her nose wrinkling.

"Can you imagine David with an ulcer? Just think of the grief he'd give your mom..."

"That's not funny." But she laughed and his eyes sparkled in a way that made her feel like a goddess. Then a tear of joy slid from the corner of her eye and she scrubbed it away. "Seriously Killian, what is your plan?"

If it were up to her she'd marry him whether her dad liked it or not. But Killian also had a say in the matter, and his desire to be accepted by her family only made her love him even more.

Killian caught her by the upper arms, the box in his right hand sending a charge of awareness through her. She couldn't wait to get her hands on it, couldn't wait to be his wife. "You are my plan." His tone was proud and confident, and it earned him a questioning look. "I think it's time to put those marketing skills of yours into good use."

The way he smiled, almost…deviously, made her stomach quiver and her heart race.

"What do you say love? Are you up for the task?"

There was only one answer to that question – hell yeah. No doubt it was going to be her favorite project. But she bit back her enthusiastic agreement, thinking she could probably get something more out of this…

"Only if you let me see." She tilted her head toward the box.

Letting go of her arms, he nodded. "So it's like that? You'll decide whether I'm worth the trouble based on the size of the rock?"

That struck hard. "God. No." Her eyes squeezed shut as she scrambled for something to say. "That's not what I meant – "

"I'm just messing with you, Swan." Smiling, and too pleased with himself, he extended his right hand, his open palm offering her the wooden box. "It's yours." He said softly. "Always have been."

She wanted to smack him. "Killian, I swear to God…" she took the box and fisted it in her hand. But she couldn't be mad at him, not when he was looking at her like that, as if she were all he ever dreamed.

Her gaze drifted to her hand.

"Now who's stalling?" he sounded as nervous as she felt.

Glancing up at him, she smiled. Then her gaze was drawn back to the heart-shaped piece of wood in her hand. He'd carved her name on top of the box, right in the middle of the heart, and as her forefinger traced the letters her chest became so tight with emotion that it was hard to breathe.

With cautious fingers, she thumbed open the lid.

The sight brought tears to her eyes. With a 2.0 carat princess-cut diamond and two interweaving diamond-paved bands, it was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen. And it must have cost him a fortune. Probably every cent he'd earned renovating boats as a high-schooler. While all the boys in their class had saved up for cars and trips to Vegas, her lovesick boyfriend had been putting all his money in a ring for her finger. She pictured him putting the ring aside, burying it in some drawer along with the idea of a life with her. The image broke her heart.

For the past nine years the ring had been a useless piece of highly expensive metal, and still he held onto it. He could have sold it and put the much needed money into good use, but he couldn't let go of it, no more than she could let go of him.

Staring through unblinking, watering eyes, she read the engraving. Next to the date of the day they'd met a dozen years ago, there were four words that had deep, secret meaning only the two of them knew.

Until I met you.

In the course of their relationship he'd said those words to her on several occasions. The first time had been in their school library. She had already known who he was, and she would be lying if she didn't admit that she had been salivating every time she'd passed him in the hallways, but they had never talked before. Well, nowhere outside her mind. So when she'd lifted her head from the books and found him sitting across from her, the last thing she'd expected – other than a mini heart attack – was to hear him say, 'I've never seen beauty…until I met you.' She'd been convinced it was some pickup line he used on all the girls, but once she'd come to believe that the popular boy with the good looks was really interested in her, she'd agreed to go out with him.

At the end of their second date Killian had surprised her with, 'I've never known love…until I met you.' Later confessing he'd loved her the moment he saw her. And while she'd known she hadn't been his first, she'd sure hoped to be his last. During the following weeks, she'd gradually learned those four words held deeper meaning; that they had meant to convey the turmoil of emotions she'd overwhelmed him with.

She rolled the ring between her thumb and forefinger. "What were you going to say?" it was hard for her to get the words past her tight throat.

"I've never believed in eternal love…" he didn't continue. He didn't have to.

Tears tracked down her cheeks. "God, Killian…" her breath left her in a shaky exhalation.

Abruptly, Emma put the ring back in the box and snapped it close. "Come on, let's go." She took his hand and started pulling him across the deck.

"Where?" He halted.

"To my parents'."

His brows shot up. "Now?" he asked and she nodded. "It's bloody two a.m."

"So?"

"So, I'm not taking you to your parents at goddamn two in the morning."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" He parroted, shoving a hand through his hair. "Maybe because I'm trying to get on your father's good side, not – "

"Fine." Emma raised her hands in mock surrender. "Then if you won't take me to my parents then at least take me to bed." She licked her lips in a subtle invitation.

Killian caught on fast, a sinful smile curving his mouth. "That I can do." He picked her up like a bride – making her giggle in surprise and excitement – and made his way down the stairs.

…

It was the best night of her life.

First, she'd dragged Killian into the shower with her, even though he protested, saying it was too small for the both of them.

It wasn't. It was perfect.

In the confined space between the tiled-wall and the glass doors, they had been closer than ever. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. And it was where she'd noticed the change in him; as if the water that'd circled the drain at their feet carried off his inhibitions along with them. His hands had been everywhere, leaving trails of fire and desire in their wake. She'd ached for him – in more ways than one – and only his cock shoved deep inside of her, had managed to put her longing to rest. With their bodies joined and unmoving, and their lips locked under the spray, it had been the longest and the most pleasurable shower she'd ever taken.

He made her feel young again, lively and insatiable. She'd had him twice more in bed, and despite the sweet soreness, she'd found herself padding over to the kitchen – where Killian had been fixing them something to eat – and claiming him again.

There on the settee, she'd straddled him, pushing him to lean back into the cushion before sliding her slick cunt around him. The rough sound of desire he'd made had vibrated through her. He had wanted her again no less than she'd wanted him. Leaning away from him, she'd reached behind her and set her hands on his knees. She loved putting her body on display for him, seeing his dark, hungry gaze drop from her face to her hardened nipples, and further down to the place where they were joined. In short order, she'd made him watch as she dragged her soaked sex along the rigid length of his cock, over and over again until he came violently and pushed her over the edge with him.

When they had finally gathered themselves and left the living area, the two bowls of cereals were left abandoned on the counter, as full as her heart was with love and joy.

At the crack of dawn, right before the sleep caught up with them, she cuddled next to him under the covers and rested her head on his chest. Killian caught her to him, his long fingers digging into her hip, where they belonged. Where she intended to make sure they would stay from this day forward.

…

Killian brushed his teeth when the blonde who'd kept him up all night came from behind, their gazes meeting in their mirrored reflections. Even with sleep-mussed hair and yesterday's clothes, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Emma wrapped her arms around his bare torso. "Meet me at Granny's in an hour?" her soft lips pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"Granny's?" he spit and washed his mouth. Their renewed relationship was too fragile now. He wanted to keep her for himself just a little longer, just until they figured things out. Her job, her parents, their ex-lovers… Wiping his mouth with a towel, he turned to face her. "Why Granny's?"

"I want us to talk to my parents somewhere public. You know, in case my father decides to kill you."

"Okay…" he nodded and smiled. "Well, isn't there somewhere else that we can talk and still have enough witnesses?"

"What's wrong with the diner?" she tensed, pursing her lips and crossing her arms. He knew that defensive posture. Maybe he shouldn't have made it sound like he had a problem with the place – which he did, but that was beside the point. Because the last thing he wanted was to upset the woman he loved more than anything.

"Nothing." He reassured, running his hands down her bare her arms and pressing a tender kiss to her pouting lips. "I'll meet you there in an hour."

"Promise?" she looked at him, her green eyes searching.

"Promise."


	9. When It Rains, It Pours

As soon as Killian stepped into the diner, his gaze swept the room in search for the waitress with the big green eyes. He needed to talk to her before Emma and her parents got here. But instead, he was met with a different pair of green eyes. The eyes that had pleaded him all night to pleasure and love the woman they belonged to.

_Emma_.

The sight of her made him forget what he'd wanted to do. Whenever she was around, nothing – and no one – else mattered. With his gaze riveted to her beautiful face, he made his way to where she was sitting at the far end of the diner. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He'd missed her already, as if her warm, luscious body hadn't been in his arms only an hour ago.

Truth be told, his mind still couldn't process it all. He couldn't believe that they were actually going to talk with her parents about the possibility of getting married. Having Emma back in his life felt like a dream; hallucination conjured by his fevered imagination. And he feared that at any given moment he was going to wake up to the life he'd had less than twenty four hours ago. A life without her.

When he slid into the booth, she gave him one of her breathtaking smiles that'd always managed to stop his world from spinning. "Hey," he sounded breathless.

"Hey," her voice was just as breathy and it made him smile.

His gaze raked her. She was dressed in a cap sleeve summer dress that was crafted of berry-pink cotton and covered in petite white hearts. Her long, golden hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, which showed off her beauty. The overall effect left him speechless. But his cock wasn't as idle. It thickened and lengthened with rousing appreciation.

One dirty blond lifted with challenge. "You like?"

"I'm hard." He adjusted himself in his jeans.

Emma looked away, blushing. But he knew she was turned on by the rawness of his hunger for her. He could guess she was getting hot and wet for him already. And it only made him harder. If there hadn't been a dozen customers around, he would have had her sprawled here on the table, pushed her dress up and buried his head between her thighs until she sobbed out his name with pleasure.

A feminine hand on his shoulder jolted him back to reality like a bucket of ice water. He tensed under the familiar touch and watched Emma's gaze shift to the woman's hand. Then it narrowed and stayed there. Emma didn't like what she was seeing and he couldn't blame her. The leisurely way in which the waitress was leaning on him suggested she knew him intimately – which she did – and he was certain he wouldn't have been as civilized as Emma had the situation been reversed.

"Emma," he managed a smile despite the awkward situation. "You remember Ruby."

There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Killian's gaze moved between the two women as they sized each other up.

They couldn't be more different from each other in appearance. The leggy waitress was taller than Emma, her body long and curved in all the right places. Her hair was dark brown as fine chocolate and hung thick and straight almost to her waist. The outfit she wore matched her bubbling personality and was composed of a tight white blouse and skimpy fire-red skirt that showcased her best assets.

Ruby was a gorgeous looking woman. Not as gorgeous as Emma, but then who was?

"Of course," she said finally, offering Ruby a tight smile. One that was anything but genuine. "Long time…" but not long enough if the way she was looking at the brunette was anything to go by.

They had all gone to the same class in high school. But while Ruby had been the queen bee of the popular kids, Emma had never made an effort to fit in. Not even after she'd become Killian's girlfriend, who himself had been part of the in crowd.

"Emma," Ruby gave a brisk nod, her hands whipping out a notepad and pen from the front pocket of her apron. "So what can I get you guys?" the brunette clicked open the pen against Killian's bicep and scribbled something down. "I already know what you want." She drawled, flashing her stunning white smile. "How about you?" lifting her gaze from the notepad, she looked at Emma, whose gaze was fixed on Killian.

She was studying him. Intently. Her mind registering his every movement.

"What would you like for breakfast, love?" his voice was soft, wishing to placate the woman he loved.

She didn't take her eyes off him, her mouth a tight line. "I'm not really hungry."

"How about that grilled cheese?" Ruby suggested.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath at the sly provocation.

"Just make mine a double." Killian hurried to put an end to the situation before it turned into a complete fiasco.

"Sure thing, Killian." The brunette tore a page from her notepad and turned to leave; Emma giving her one last side-glance as she walked away.

Emma's hand went to her throat, her slender fingers restlessly toying with the circle pendant of her necklace. And after a long moment of silence she asked with a pointed stare, "What is she to you?"

He took a deep breath, then released his tension with it. "A friend."

She nodded, but didn't look convinced. "With benefits?" she added to inquire.

"Not anymore."

Sagging back into the seat, Emma cursed and crossed her arms. "Since when?"

"Since we got back together."

"Damnit Killian." She straightened again, her arms on the table. "Does she know that?" her voice was laced with jealousy. "I need her to know _that_. I need her to know you _belong to me_. I need her to know she can't have you. Ever. Again."

"She will." He assured. It wasn't even a question. With Emma he was a one-woman man.

"When?" it was a demand.

He pushed out of the booth and onto his feet. "Right now."

…

"Can we talk?"

The waitress behind the counter turned to the sound of his voice.

"What's up?" Ruby leaned forward and – intentionally or not – gave him full view to her plunging neckline.

He kept his eyes on hers. His flirting days were over now that Emma was back in his life.

Going straight to the point, he said, "Emma and I are back together."

"Oh," her brows rose. She looked surprised and . . . disappointed, her lips pursing a moment. "I thought you said she was just visiting…" that was what he'd thought when he had seen Ruby last night, but since then everything had changed. "Well, I should have guessed with the way she was looking at me…" she glanced over his shoulder, then stepped aside to hide behind him. And he reckoned that the look Emma gave her was a lethal one. "She always was a crazy jealous girlfriend."

Yes she was. And he loved that about her. Emma had never concealed her possessiveness. She'd fought for him like a lioness. He was her man and any woman who'd dared to forget had been quickly reminded.

"No more fooling around then?" Ruby pouted prettily when he shook his head. "Oh well…" she sighed. "It'd take some getting used to..." reaching for a fresh pot of coffee, she asked, "Still friends though, right?"

"Of course." He didn't hesitate. Ruby was a dear friend; fun to be with, nonjudgmental and easy to talk to. In the last couple of years they grew very close. And the sex… well, it was no strings attached great sex. But never anything more. They had never dated or been exclusive. And the freedom to sleep with whomever they wanted had suited them both.

"Good." She smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without you." And because the feelings were mutual, he smiled softly in return.

Pot in hand, the brunette rounded the bar and was on her way to attend one of the tables when something caused her to turn back and meet him at the customers' side of the counter. "So how's this going to work out for you?"

The question confused him, his gaze narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"With you guys living in different zip codes."

"Ah," there was a pause of uncertainty. Emma and he had barely discussed details. But there was one thing Emma had made clear. "She's going to stay here." He scrubbed a nervous hand over his whisker-rough jaw, not believing his own words.

"Here?" she repeated and he nodded. "In Storybrooke?"

He nodded again, then frowned. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I just said the world is flat."

"I didn't mean to sound skeptical." Shaking her head, she set the coffee container down and leaned her hip into the counter. "I'm sorry if I did… I'm happy for you, Killian. I really am." But somehow her smile managed to contradict her words.

Her hand reached for the coffee and he caught her wrist. "Don't do that." Frustration made him curt. "Don't lie to me. We've always been honest with each other so don't let anything stop you now."

She looked around, as if to check if anyone was within earshot, then sat on the nearest padded red leather barstool.

"Killian," she exhaled audibly. "I don't want you to get your hopes up. You know how Emma is. She's driven and ambitious… she wasn't made for a life in a small town, she'd go stir crazy around here…" her words hit home. Unwittingly, she had echoed his own thoughts on the subject. "I just don't want to see you get hurt when she decides to go back to New York."

But that wasn't what he was worried about. For a life with Emma he was willing to risk everything, his heart included. It was his ability to make her happy that he doubted…

The kitchen bell rang and Ruby hopped off the stool. "Duty calls…" she gave him a sympathetic smile and left him to his thoughts.

He turned to look at the blonde who awaited him across the room. Emma was smiling at him warmly, and he found it hard to smile back because all he could think of was that this woman in front of him – this insanely beautiful, ridiculously intelligent, affectionate and kind to a fault woman – was way out of his league.

…

Her lover looked mouthwatering as usual. Slim-fitting jeans hung low around his hips and clung to his perfect ass, while a dark jersey shirt encased his sculpted back and bulging biceps. He was easily stealing the attention of everyone in the diner. But Emma couldn't lean back and simply enjoy the view. Not when Killian was with another woman. A woman he used to share a bed with.

She hated the thought of him talking to Ruby; she hated the thought of him taking his pleasure from her hot body even more. It made her stomach knot with jealousy. But with each word they exchanged, she felt a little bit of tension drain away from her. She knew disappointment when she saw it. And it was there on the brunette's face.

When Killian got back, he came to sit beside her rather than across from her.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he brushed her ponytail aside and stroked her neck with tender fingers.

She looked into his otherworldly blue eyes and saw love and admiration. But there was something else, too. An insecurity that left her uneasy.

Their order arrived with Granny, who greeted them both by name. And Emma waited until the old lady left to find out what caused the change of mood in the man she loved.

"Killian, what's wrong?" she couldn't hide the apprehension in her voice.

"I can't tell you you're beautiful? Why do you assume something's wrong?" he drew his hand away, snagging a piece of bacon and sticking it in his mouth. Then he dug his fork into his scrambled eggs, as if to distract himself from whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Morning, Killian." A petite green-eyed woman who looked like a breath of fresh air in a pear-colored skater dress and nude heels, shot him a flirty smile as she walked by them.

Emma recognized her from high school, but didn't know her by name. The pretty blonde, who'd always wore her hair up in a messy bun, was two years their junior and had more than just hair and eye color in common with Emma. They both had a major crush on Killian Jones.

Killian gave the woman a brief nod and half a smile. And the tension that reappeared in his body set off an alarm in Emma's head.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried pushing the nagging thoughts away, but failed miserably.

Her eyes snapped open. "Her too?" she asked suddenly, unable to hold back her jealousy a moment longer. Though she was unsure whether she wanted to hear the hard truth.

He paused midchew, his body language tight and defensive. Then he swallowed hard and set his utensils down. "One time."

Emma cursed and pushed her plate away, feeling sick. She hated that woman irrationally. Hated every woman who'd known the taste of his kiss… the pleasure of his touch… the warmth of his body…

Her head began to spin; the images in her head wouldn't go away. "Let me out."

He didn't budge.

When she moved to pass him, he pulled her to his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Where are you going?"

Twisting at the waist, she turned to look at him. "Are there any more women I should know about?"

"No one that matters."

Her temper ignited by his evasiveness. She tried to push herself to her feet, but his arms tightened into steel bands.

"Stop it." He hissed in her ear. "You are going to be my wife. And soon everyone in town will know that I'm a married man."

"You need a bride to get married."

"I have one." His lips trailed along her jaw line. "The most beautiful bride in the world."

"Well, you need a consenting one." Though she was positive there was a line of more-than-willing women waiting somewhere. "Unless you're planning on marrying me at gunpoint."

"No." The velvet rasp of his voice caressed her senses, his hot breath gusting over her skin. "I'll simply fuck the _I do_ out of you."

A shiver moved through her. "Killian…"

Jesus Christ.

Furiously turned on by his profanity, she squirmed in his hold; feeling her nipples harden and the flesh between her thighs tighten viciously. The sinful things he could do to her body with a few words…

The need to claim him, to possess him, was so fierce that she wanted him to fuck her right there and then. So it would be known to all that he was completely hers as much as she was his. But at the same time she was determined not to let him screw his way out of this. "Is everything a dirty joke to you?"

Something in her tone must have knocked him askew, because he released her at once.

Without looking back, Emma got up and went to the restroom.

…

Emma locked herself in a stall. A riot of emotions held her to finish her business a few moments longer than absolutely required.

She hadn't felt this way in years. Nine years to be exact. Only Killian could rock her so deeply that she couldn't even think straight. Suddenly she wasn't so sure she could handle this. Handle him. But she had to pull herself together, because her parents were on their way and if she didn't speak in his favor, then who would?

Taking a deep breath and gathering up her composure, she stepped out and went to the sink to wash her hands. Not a second later, the door of the second stall opened. As she looked in the mirror, Emma's gaze caught on Ashley Boyd, another classmate from high school. _Was this reunion day and no one told her?_

Ashley was a beautiful blue-eyed blonde. And Emma had a soft spot for her, because just like Emma's mother, Ashley had been a pregnant teenager. But unlike Emma's father, Ashley's high school boyfriend hadn't stuck around.

Emma watched as she approached and joined her at the vanity. Her blond hair was pulled back in a lopsided ponytail and she wore the same white and red outfit as Ruby, but on her – for some reason – it looked a lot less . . . provocative.

"Hi," Ashley offered her a friendly smile, which made her smile back. "How have you been? I've heard you're living in Manhattan now."

She didn't recall Ashley as a chatty girl, so the questions caught Emma by surprise.

"What's it like over there?" her blue eyes sparkled in a way that reminded Emma her first time in the big city.

"Great." Emma stuck to that one word; not wanting to rub it in. Knowing Ashley – like many of the other residents of Storybrooke – couldn't afford a life in pricey New York. "But a small town has its perks."

"I've seen you with Killian." The mention of her lover made Emma stiffen. "Are you two dating again?"

She wiped her wet hands with a paper towel and responded with a weak nod, wondering why that question popped the first moment she wasn't feeling confident about their relationship.

"You're a fortunate woman. He's a great guy."

"You mean a great lay." The words slipped out of Emma's mouth like venom. She cringed at her own tone, it was so bitter it was unrecognizable.

Ashley was silent a minute, her blue eyes soft with compassion as they studied Emma's reflection in the mirror.

Mentally kicking herself, Emma regretted her impetuous response. Obviously Ashley hadn't had the pleasure to know Killian's touch so she had no idea what she was talking about.

"He helped me out when I was in a bind." Ashley spoke finally. "Saved my life actually. I don't know what would have become of me if I lost custody of my daughter." Pulling a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and wiping her hands, she turned to look at Emma and continued. "Alexandra's grandparents tried to take her away from me. But Killian fixed me up with this hotshot lawyer who gave them a run for their money." She reached behind her to throw the damp towels in the trash. "Killian would never admit it, but I know he paid his fee."

Emma was at a loss for words. With all the responsibilities and financial struggles that he had, coming through like that for someone else was . . . unreal.

"I will pay him back." Her tone was a promise. "As soon as I can."

"I'm sure he's not expecting you to."

She didn't reply. Instead, she said, "You're special to him."

The statement that came out of the blue made Emma raise her brows.

"I've never seen him with anyone the way he was with you. And about what you said before, if you ask me, I think the only reason he slept around was because he didn't want to commit. I don't think he ever got over you."

Her heart stuttered. The ring he kept for the last decade was already a testament to his undying love, yet hearing it out loud made it all the more real.

"I gotta get back to work." The waitress smoothed her white blouse. "I hope to see you around, Emma."

"You too," she said with a smile. "And thanks!" But Ashley was already out the door, unaware of the depth of Emma's gratitude.

…

"I'm sorry," Emma slid back to sit next to the handsome man in the jersey shirt, wrapping both arms around one of his and leaning her head on his shoulder. "The jealousy fit… it was…" she couldn't find the words to excuse her erratic behavior.

"Familiar?" his tone was teasing and when she lifted her head, she saw that his eyes were too.

"Stop it," she smacked his arm and mock-glared when he laughed, the sound sending warmth spreading through her.

One of his hands cupped her face, a thumb gliding reverently across her cheek. "I'm just relieved you can still get jealous over me." The insecurity was back on his face.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Leaning in, he shook his head, his lips grazing hers. "No reason." But when he sealed his mouth over hers and his tongue dipped inside, there was a desperation on his part that frightened her. It felt a lot like goodbye.

Their lips parted and she looked into his blue eyes, her gaze searching. "Are you nervous because of my parents?" she cursed her inability to read his thoughts.

"Yeah," his chest expanded on a deep breath. "And speaking of which..." her gaze followed his to the front door her parents had just walked through. "Let me just make a quick work call and then I'll join you, okay?"

"Sure."

…

Her mom and dad were the definition of true love. They'd met in sixth grade and had been together ever since.

Emma waved at them and they made their way to the far end of the diner. Both her parents looked a lot younger than their forty four years, especially when they smiled.

Her mother had a gorgeous white smile and her beauty was – in a word – surreal. Mary Margaret had perfect porcelain skin and beautiful green eyes that radiated vulnerability to which her husband responded helplessly. Her dress was the same inky hue as her hair that had been cut into a stylish bob. And her most treasured possession was the man on her arm.

Her dad's smile was charming as the man himself. David was six feet, one inch of well-built male. His hair was blond like Emma's, and his eyes – that were always raking the immediate area around him – were a mesmerizing blue. Even in a colorful plaid dress shirt and jeans he had the commanding presence of a man who wore a badge.

Moments after her mom settled into the seat across from her and her dad followed, Killian reappeared at their table.

"What's he doing here?" her dad glared at the man she loved. "I thought we're here to meet the man you're going to marry."

Wrapping Killian's wrist with her fingers, Emma pulled him down to sit next to her. "You are."

David looked at his daughter in shocked silence. And as realization sank in, Emma watched the terrible confusion leave his eyes, replaced by a blazing fury.

"Can I say something?" Killian spoke and she heard what she'd always heard whenever he talked to her parents – great respect and steely control.

Her mother nodded, but her father didn't move a muscle.

Emma set her hand on Killian's denim-covered thigh for support. Whether it was meant for him or herself, she wasn't sure. Either way, relief flowed over her when he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Killian's chin lifted, his jaw taking on a determined slant that filled Emma's heart with pride. "I love your daughter." Her heart leaped at the declaration. Those words managed to knock the wind out of her every single time he said them. "I promise to always take care of her, keep her – "

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to this!" David shoved a hand through his hair and exhaled harshly, his body twisting to get out of the booth. But her mother stayed him with a hand on his forearm.

Her dad turned so swiftly, he startled them all. "How are you going to fend for my daughter?" he bit out, pointing a finger at Killian, who recoiled back into his seat. "Ha? _How?_ "

"David!" her mother chided quietly.

Emma had never seen her dad so livid. He was vibrating with suppressed violence, his fingers gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled force, as if he were physically restraining himself from reaching for Killian and beating him to a bloody pulp.

After a moment of heavy silence her mom spoke. "You can't live off love." Mary Margaret explained softly in her patient-teacher tone.

Emma blinked in surprise. To hear that from her mom of all people… the same woman who was a living example of selfless love.

Her gaze narrowed. Emma didn't like the way her mother was looking at Killian. The sympathetic smile Mary Margaret offered the man that she loved made Emma's throat burn. Then it struck her. Her mom knew. She knew about the Jones' financial situation.

Shifting her gaze from her mother to her father, Emma realized they both knew. Perhaps all along. And they had never told her.

"How long have you known?" Emma's voice was low but throbbed with anger.

"Emma…" her mom began to say warily.

" _How long?_ " her gut twisted with an awful feeling of betrayal. "Did you know before I left for college?" she gritted her teeth against the need to scream. " _Did you?_ "

They didn't have to say anything. The answer was there on their faces. She couldn't believe her own parents had done that to her. They had known – _seen_ – how devastated she had been after Killian had ended their relationship. And still they'd said _nothing_.

"Come on Killian," she urged him out of the booth. "We're leaving."

"Emma," both her parents pleaded. But she couldn't stand to look at them at that moment.

Instead, she turned to Killian, who took one look at her and rose to his feet. Emma was grateful he didn't try to convince her to stay. She wasn't sure she could have handled another argument.

She got up after him and they left.

…

"That went well…" Killian blew out a heavy breath as soon as they were out the door.

Her chest was still tight with anger and disappointment. "I don't want those liars' blessing anyway." She said in a sulky tone she hadn't had to use since she was a teenager.

"They are your parents." His hands cupped her face. "And deep down you know they had only your best interest in mind."

Emma didn't counter. She didn't want to fight with him, especially over her parents. All she wanted to do was take him back to the boat, lock the door behind them and shut the world out.

Looking into his intensely blue eyes made her damn near desperate to be under him, to feel the protective shield of his big body, the soothing tenderness of his kiss…

Then a stomach-turning thought came back to haunt her.

She encircled his wrists, gently removing his hands from her face. "Killian?"

"What is it, love?"

"I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that so many women had their hands on you." She admitted quietly. Images of women she knew taunted her. Beautiful women. Sexy women. Women that went to their class, their school –

"Keep doing that and you'll drive yourself insane."

"Do what?"

"I can see you counting them in your head." His forefinger touched her temple with a fond tap. "They weren't so many. And I'm sure I have my share of reasons to be jealous."

She scrunched her nose at his arched brow. "At least my exes aren't lurking around every corner..."

Taking his hand, she backed up, pulling him with her. She wanted to get out of there already. Put everyone and everything aside. If only for a little while.

A step and a half later her back crashed into something. And when two warm hands on her upper arms steadied her, she realized it was not something, but someone.

"Sorry," she smiled awkwardly and looked down, her eyes meeting a pair of gleaming black oxfords draped in black slacks. An odd look for anyone who was living in a small town. As she turned around and lifted her gaze to look at the man, her smile faded. "Neal,"

There was her recent ex-boyfriend – the one she'd been ignoring for days now – standing in all his urban sophistication on the sidewalk outside the diner.

Her gaze jerked to Killian, who looked at her and said, "You were saying?"


	10. You Made Your Bed, Now Lie in It

Killian raked the man in front of him. Neal was about his age, he guessed. Average height and nicely muscular, as far as Killian could tell through the three-piece suit he was wearing. He had a short circle beard and neatly brushed up brown hair, which was impressive, considering the long travel from New York. But it wasn't until Killian reached the man's eyes that he felt threatened. The soft brown eyes of Emma's ex-boyfriend revealed the depth of the love he still held for her.

Pushing his jacket aside, Neal shoved his hands in the front pockets of his slacks. "You haven't returned any of my calls."

It wasn't an accusation.

Neal swallowed hard and the way he looked at the blonde woman who was not long ago his – with pain and deep longing – reminded Killian a child that was missing his blanket.

Sympathy warred with animosity. And Killian couldn't decide which to side with.

"I'm sorry." Emma's small voice made Killian's gaze jolt back to her. And her hand that slipped from his hadn't gone unnoticed either.

A muscle in Killian's jaw twitched and sympathy lost the battle.

"August told me I'd find you here." The hopeful smile the man gave Emma caused Killian's hand to fist at his side, but it was the mention of the guy who eye-fucked Emma all through high school that made him want to ram it through one dark-haired, blue-eyed man's face.

"August?" Killian interjected and while Emma turned to look at him, Neal didn't take his eyes off the gorgeous blonde in the berry-pink summer dress. Killian couldn't really blame the ex for appreciating the view. Something he himself had done only an hour ago. "Marco's August?"

"Yeah," Emma heaved out a breath, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the whole situation. "We became friends in college and we kept in touch ever since."

"He went to Columbia?" the confusion had Killian reeling. "Wasn't he supposed to go to NYU?"

"He was, but he switched universities at the last minute."

Killian's lips curled in a sneer. "How convenient..." there was so much more that he wanted to say about the guy who had been determined to steal his high school girlfriend, but he stopped himself to Emma's pleading gaze.

Stepping closer, Neal caught Killian's gaze. "Neal Cassidy." He held out his hand.

Killian shook it and gave him a brisk nod. "Killian Jones."

Neal paused for a moment and his eyes took on a speculative gleam. Then he snapped out of it and asked, "May I?" he gestured at space between Emma and him.

Killian nodded.

Cassidy took a step aside and Emma followed. "Did you get any of my texts?" his voice lowered intimately.

"Yes." Emma whispered back, her voice giving away how nervous she was. "I'm sorry I didn't text back… it just…" she glanced at Killian. "There was nothing left to say…"

Shoving a hand through his hair, Neal moved backward. Then he exhaled harshly, his gaze drifting to Killian and back to the woman who was clearly frustrating him at that moment. "You're leaving me for _him?"_ his tone hardened, his chin jerking toward Killian. "It is _him_ , right? The guy you hated enough to burn your yearbook so you wouldn't have to see his face?"

Emma shifted with obvious discomfort as she began to explain, "It's not like that – "

"You burned our yearbook?" Killian couldn't hold back his astonishment a second longer, and Emma turned in time to see his brows shooting up.

Neal's mouth curved in a mocking smile. "You didn't tell him?" the sound of his voice drew Emma's gaze back to her ex. "It's an interesting story, I've heard it at least a dozen times. So let's see if I can get it right."

"Neal. Don't." Her tone was a plea.

Killian wasn't afraid of what Neal had to say, but one look at Emma's beautiful face told him beyond a doubt that she was. "Love, it's okay." He wanted to give her the reassurance that nothing could change how he felt about her. That she shouldn't fear sharing details from the years they'd spent apart, even if that meant talking about the pain he'd caused her. "Let him speak."

Emma didn't answer, didn't nod or vocalize her approval, but she didn't protest again either.

"You tell me if I mix up the details, okay . . . _love?"_ Cassidy mocked the endearment, his mouth a tight line, his eyes hard as agates. "Freshman year of college. Summer beach party. You didn't want to go, but your friend Lily wouldn't stop texting, insisting you should come. Eventually, you showed up at midnight with a cardboard box. Which you threw in the fire. Then you got drunk – for the first time in your life – and danced 'till morning. After the fire died out and ten pounds of memories had turned to black ashes you vomited for hours. You say it was the booze. I say it was the realization that you burned everything that reminded you of this guy over here." He gestured at Killian.

Heavy silence descended.

Killian's chin lifted. He maintained his cool even though the blow had been hard enough to knock him down for the count. Knowing that he'd driven Emma to the brink of insanity was tearing him apart. He'd always imagined her college years as the happiest time in her life. That perfect picture had already cracked when she'd confessed to being miserable without him. But now . . . not only did it shatter to pieces, it was replaced by a new, heartrending image he couldn't get out of his head.

"How can you go back to him after that?" anger colored Neal's voice as he asked the one question that whirled around in Killian's head as well.

Emma reached to her ex-lover, placing a hand on his arm.

Cassidy visibly relaxed, locking eyes with the woman he loved. The effect her touch had on him sent a flare of jealousy rushing through Killian's body and he had to take a deep breath to fight it off.

"Why don't you go get coffee and we'll go for a walk?" she asked softly.

Nodding, Neal covered her hand with his and squeezed. Then he shot Killian one last look before he left them and walked into the diner.

…

"I'm sorry." Emma said the moment they were alone. "I gotta handle this."

Killian scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek. "Of course."

An awkward silence filled the space between them.

"You were trying to forget me." He said with a smile to lighten the mood.

"I was." Emma flashed him a quick, sad smile. "Was desperate to, actually."

There was a pause. He sensed her struggle and wondered what she was thinking about.

"I'm sorry I got rid of it all." Her tone was apologetic and her eyes filled with regret.

Killian shook his head. "Don't worry about it." But their yearbook was burning red in front of his eyes. And while he had a copy of his own he guessed that everything else inside that flaming box was irreplaceable.

His mind drifted to the handmade wooden frame he'd given her. Emma had chosen to replace the photo of the two of them with one she'd taken of him. She had caught him in a joyful, unguarded moment with the sea at his back. It had been her favorite photo, the one she'd kept on her nightstand and the last thing she used to see before sleep. She'd also pasted another one just like it in the scrapbook that she'd made to document their relationship. Which he figured she'd set ablaze as well…

Killian cleared his throat. "So . . . my letters . . . them too?" he was almost afraid to ask what had become of the dozens of love letters he had written her during the years they were together.

His gaze slid over Emma's face. The guilt that stared out at him through her green eyes confirmed that he'd been right to fear the answer.

He looked away, rubbing at the ache in his chest. If she'd stabbed him in the heart it couldn't have hurt more. But he had no right being hurt or mad. Not when he was the one who'd made this bed.

Swallowing his emotions, he managed a smile for her. "I guess I'll have to write you new ones."

Emma gave him a relieved smile and he realized that she'd been dreading his reaction ever since Cassidy forced the truth out. Maybe even before that.

"Killian," she came closer and looked up at him. "I didn't mean… I didn't know…" her eyes grew shiny with tears.

"Shh…" he soothed, one hand gliding over her cheek.

Emma's face contorted with pain for a brief moment. "I'm sorry." Her breath was warm against his lips and all he wanted – _needed_ – was to pull her against him and kiss her. Let her mouth chase away his doubts.

Killian heard the diner's front door open and without looking he guessed lover boy was on his way back.

Apparently so did Emma, because she swiped at her tears and pulled away. Then she turned toward her ex-boyfriend who was quickly closing the distance between them.

"No sugar, half-and-half, stirred not foamed, just the way you like it." Neal handed her a to-go cup and watched her every movement, anxiously awaiting her feedback.

She offered him a warm smile and his brown eyes sparkled in a way that made Killian's stomach lurch. "Thanks," bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip, she moaned softly at the taste, then wiped her lips with delicate fingers. "I've been dying for a good cup of coffee ever since I got here."

"And it goes best with those bagels you like from Third Avenue." In the most natural way Cassidy let her hold his cup before he took off his jacket and draped it over one arm.

"Don't be a tease…" She handed him the drink back.

"You think I'm messing with you?" he took a quick pull on his coffee. "I brought blueberry, honey grain and cinnamon raisin."

"My favorites." Her voice was soft and her eyes gleamed with gratitude.

That made Neal's face split with a pleased grin. "They are in the car."

"You drove?" her brows rose and Killian glanced at the brand new magnetic SUV that sat at the curb. Money thrown in his face was never a good thing.

Neal shrugged. "Only from the airport – "

"I gotta go." Killian cut in and Emma turned to look at him. "I have three boats vying for my attention."

"But it's a Sunday." She blinked at him, looking confused. And with that he realized she knew nothing about his life. Nothing about the life she would have with him…

"I can't afford losing customers over missed deadlines."

Emma nodded, but the confusion did not leave her face.

"I'll see you later." Killian leaned in, offering his lips.

Emma's choice to give him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek paralyzed him for a moment. But no one seemed to notice because she and the ex got back to talking about his vehicle. And if that wasn't bad enough, as he walked away, he could hear Neal reminding her that his car – which was almost identical to the rental – had black windshields.

Now, there was a piece of information he could live without... information that brought sex to mind. Images of Emma getting it on with her ex in the back of his SUV tormented him. Had she been as passionate with Neal as she was with him? Could Neal get her hot and needy like he could?

The thoughts alone made him sick to his stomach.

After he crossed the street, Killian turned to look at them. They were standing beside the SUV about five hundred feet away from him. Far, but not far enough for him to misread Emma's body language.

Emma seemed at ease and like she was enjoying the conversation. Her shoulder leaned against the vehicle, the coffee cup pressed against her chest. After he'd gotten something out of the car, Neal came to stand close – too close – to her.

With his gut churning with jealousy and confusion, Killian squeezed his eyes shut against the turmoil of emotions.

But after he inhaled deeply, got a hold on his composure and reopened his eyes, he had to admit that Emma looked like she was right where she belonged.


	11. The Better Fit

What was the deal with Neal and timing?

When Emma had first met him, he'd been what she'd needed exactly when she'd needed him. Her knight in Armani who'd come to the rescue. But now, his timing couldn't have been worse.

She and Killian had gotten back together less than twelve hours ago and after the infuriating conversation with her parents Neal was the last thing their fragile relationship needed. She could only imagine how Killian was feeling right now. And still, she couldn't let her recent ex-boyfriend leave without a proper explanation. After two years together, he deserved that much.

"Your hair," Neal said on their way to the pond. "It reminds me of when we first met."

Emma glanced at him, offering a tight smile. She knew what he was doing . . . reminiscing.

The reason she'd agreed to go out with Neal Cassidy in the first place was because she'd been grateful. On the day they met, more than two years ago, she'd been attacked and Neal had been her rescuer.

It had been at the end of a long work day that Emma had exited the office dressed for the gym, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, same it was now. And it had been that day that her so-called secret admirer – turned out to be stalker – had been the lone occupant in the elevator. Eighteen terrifying floors later, the blessed ding as the doors slid apart, followed by Neal – who was working at the same office building as her – entering the car had put an end to that living nightmare.

But she wasn't going to let that guilt-trip her into staying with him. She just couldn't.

"So what have you been doing these last couple of days?" she asked when they took a seat on the bench.

"Missing you." His longing gaze made her shift uncomfortably.

Looking away for a brief moment, she smiled awkwardly. "That's not what I meant."

"It's the truth. Ever since you told me you needed a break I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't do anything without thinking about you. I miss you, Emma." His words came out fast and desperate. "I was at court the other day, prosecuting this high profile serial killer and all I could think about was you. I called Carol . . . my assistant . . . I called her Emma. Five times in twenty minutes." He chuckled sadly and the sound made her uneasy. "When I get home and your stuff isn't there... It breaks me. I want you to come back with me."

"I can't."

"We don't have to get married." He shook his head. "Forget I asked. We can just go back to the way things were."

"I can't go back to the way things were." What he didn't know was that her heart had always been here in Storybrooke in the hands of one Killian Jones. Neal never stood a chance. No one did. Not while she was still hung up on her first love. "I'm sorry, Neal." She really was. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye. Emma had her taste of unrequited love for almost a decade. And it was a faith she wished no one, especially not someone like Neal who had been nothing but good to her.

"Emma." His thumb wiped her tear and she had to fight the urge to flinch at his touch. Only a week ago it had been so safe and familiar, but now . . . she burned for another's. And his alone. "I love you," Neal said softly and when he leaned to kiss her, she scarcely managed to avoid the brush of his lips and move away.

He shoved a hand through his hair. "You're already with him," he accused, his brown eyes burning with pain and anger. "What's next? You're going to tell me you're going to marry him?"

Despite her excitement of being Mrs. Jones, more tears fell and she scrubbed them away before Neal could. "I never meant to hurt you." She sniffled, feeling a pang of guilt. "I just . . . I have to follow my heart."

"And your heart led you here?" His tone hardened. "To him?"

She nodded.

"He will hurt you again," he warned, pushing to his feet. "And when he does, I'll be right where you left me, waiting for you," were his last words before he walked away.

Emma didn't want him to wait for her, yet she believed him that he would. And the thought of him as her "plan B" made her miserable. If it wasn't going to be Killian, it was going to be no one at all.

…

Shirtless and vexed under the timber roof of the boathouse, Killian was fixing a broken motor in record time. He picked up a can of contact cleaner and shook it almost violently before he sprayed the open engine that sat in a trashcan half-filled with water. As he reached for the heavy steel lid and quickly screwed it back on with both hands, he heard Emma's footsteps.

"Hey." Her soft voice quickly followed.

With his back to her, he crouched in front of the red metal toolbox and searched its content. "He wants you back."

There was a moment of wordless silence and he guessed the statement caught Emma off guard.

"He does." She sounded anxious and he was afraid to look at her and see the struggle in her eyes, being already full of doubts as he was. Then she released the tension with a deep exhalation. "The question is, do you?"

"What I want means nothing." Grabbing a ten inch crescent wrench and rising to his feet, he turned to face her and froze at her reddened eyes, his jaw clenching. He looked away, couldn't stand to see her aching over another man. "It's your decision to make, Swan." He moved to tighten the engine's center bolt back to its place.

"So if I go with him you won't even try to stop me? You're not going to fight for me? _For us?_ " Her mouth pursed with disappointment.

Frustration made Killian apply extra pressure on the tool, his abs and biceps flexing with each turn.

"What happened to fuck me until I say I do?" She gathered her golden locks and swept them over one shoulder and he wondered when and why she'd lost the ponytail updo.

He threw the tool back in the box. "I was under the impression you didn't like me saying that." More so, he was certain Emma preferred her ex-boyfriend's more . . . _cultured_ approach.

"It actually turned me on," she drawled, her gorgeous long legs slowly closing the distance between them. His gaze was riveted to the sway of her hips, and his ears attuned to the clicking sound of her deep-pink stilettos – the color that matched her dress. "I can't skip work tomorrow, so I have only a couple of hours until I head back to New York…" Her fingertip drew seductive lazy circles on his sweaty bare chest. Whenever Emma was this close it was getting hard – literally – for him to stay indifferent. "What do you say we make the most of it?"

There was nothing more that he wanted to do. But making love to Emma – as wonderful and glorious as it was – wasn't going to fix their issues.

Smiling tightly, he showed her his grease covered hands, hoping it would make her back out.

It didn't.

"I don't mind…" She shrugged, reaching for the exposed flesh just above the waistband of his jeans, making his skin tingle at the contact. "I would actually love to get your dirty hands all over me," she murmured, her lips pressed against the damp skin of his throat.

In a word – torture.

With his hands raised, he was careful not to touch her and stain her clothes. "I think your dress would disagree."

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she whispered seductively in his ear, "I can take it off; I can take it all off. Maybe not the heels though. I'll leave those on" – her voice lowered further – "and let you fuck me wearing nothing else."

Christ.

Emma caught his earlobe between her teeth and nipped with the promise to drive him wild. He hissed at the soft bite of pain. Then her tongue darted out to soothe the hurt with slow licks. "I think you would like that…" She pulled back to look at him, a wicked smile teasing her mouth.

So she thought right. Truth was he loved everything involving Emma and her luscious body. Just the thought aroused him in an instance, his entire body already hot and hard with need.

She ran her tongue along her lower lip in blatant provocation and his gaze followed the movement.

If he were a better man he would have resisted, but he couldn't think straight when her breathtaking face was just a couple of inches from his.

Pressing his mouth to hers, he surged forward, his body forcing her to step backward until he had her backed against the wall. His dirty palms pressed flat to the wooden wall on either side of her head. He enjoyed caging her in and feeling her surrender. Emma's hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. Her body strained towards his, her cotton covered breasts pressed against his naked torso. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss. His greedy tongue dipped inside her mouth, licking, stroking.

God. He loved kissing her. And he needed this reassurance ever since the human threat showed up in town. But the moment he identified the taste on her tongue, he broke the kiss, soundly tearing his mouth from hers.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned his forehead against hers, his breath gusting fast and humid against her lips.

The coffee and honey bagel Cassidy had brought her had jolted Killian back to reality. Making him realize that aside from her body, he knew nothing about the woman he wanted to marry. About her likes and dislikes…

He pushed off the wall, turning away from her and holding the back of his hand to his mouth.

"Killian…?" Concern tinged her voice.

Pulling himself together with a deep inhalation, he turned to face her, his hand dropping to his side. "It's a really nice dress," he said as if the last couple of minutes had never happened. "I like it a lot." He watched her lips curling in a smile despite her confusion. "Cassidy seemed to like it too."

That killed her smile.

She let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry about everything that happened with him. I'm sorry about what he said – "

"He told no lies." Killian shrugged, then went to the toolbox and fetched a thick string.

"Still, he had no right talking to you the way that he did." She followed, closing some distance. "I should've said something."

Gritting his teeth, he coiled the cord around the engine head. "But you didn't." Instead, she'd chosen to downplay the depth of their relationship in front of her ex. "Because you didn't want to hurt him." He paused to look at her, study her. And something that sifted through her green eyes told him he'd just hit the nail on its head. "You love him."

Her eyes dropped and she shook her head.

He didn't believe her. Picking up the bulb of the fuel line, Killian squeezed a couple of times to get some gas in the motor, wishing it was his heart he was squeezing instead. Surely it couldn't have hurt worse than the well deserved pain he was feeling in his chest.

"Killian…" Desperation took over her voice. And he hated being the reason she sounded like that. "You're reading too much into this. I don't love him." Her words caused him to glance her way and check if there was any truth to them. He couldn't tell. "I swear I don't. It's just," she hesitated, clearly contemplating whether to tell him the reasoning behind her actions. "It's just…" Her chest expanded on a long, deep breath. "I know what getting dumped feels like," she admitted finally. "And I didn't want to make Neal feel like I never cared about him."

Dropping the bulb, he locked eyes with her and nodded. "Like I made you feel?" His throat burned.

Emma didn't answer. She didn't have to. He knew it was a big fat yes.

Cassidy probably never hurt her.

"I'm sorry." She pissed him off by apologizing when he was the one who needed to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. "I'm sorry about everything . . . my parents . . . Neal . . ." – there was a long pause and when Emma spoke again her voice was full of pain and regret – "I'm sorry about the letters."

Shifting restlessly, he pushed for a topic change. Anything but the tens of thousands words declaring his love for her burning in flames.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Emma's eyes widened. She seemed shocked. Almost horrified. "Neal?"

"August."

She huffed a chuckle, probably to hide her embarrassment, but her flushed cheeks gave her away. And Killian could only imagine what kind of vivid memories were running through her mind.

He exhaled harshly and started pacing. August Booth had been his childhood friend. Up until freshman year of high school. The thought of Emma lying naked beneath the one guy who'd turned his back on him after his parents passed away, hurt his already bruised heart.

"It's not what you think."

"I thought you didn't like the guy," he snapped, stopping abruptly. "All of a sudden you're best buds?"

"He was different in college." Her arms crossed, a defensive posture that angered him further.

"You mean after I was out of the picture."

"I mean, after _you_ " – she pointed an accusing finger at him – "took yourself out of the picture!"

"Right." He gave a brisk nod. This was good. He wanted her pissy as he was. He wanted her to shout at him, punish him, hit him, do _something_ other than just let his betrayal slide.

How could he live with her forgiveness when he couldn't forgive himself?

"Killian…" To his dismay, her eyes and voice softened with compassion. "Why are you trying so hard to pick up a fight?" She waited the length of ten heartbeats before she made a frustrated noise at his silence. "Please don't shut me out. Talk to me, Killian. _Please_." Her beautiful emerald eyes pleaded him. "I love you." Her fingers tangled in the white waistline ribbon of her dress and her gaze fell to the floor. "Do you…" There was an insecure note in her voice that made him feel guilty. "Do you love me?"

Of course he loved her. More than anything in this bloody world. But, "You can't live off love." He hated the defeated tone of his voice. He hated that circumstances prevented him from telling her just how much she meant to him.

"You did not just quote my mother." Emma exhaled with frustration. "Money isn't everything, Killian."

"Yeah, when you have it." What kind of life did she think she'd have with him? He might never be able to buy her a home or even fend for her – as her father had put it – let alone for their children. Her former boyfriend on the other hand, was probably living in his two point five million dollar apartment just waiting for her to come home. As much as Killian hated to admit it, Cassidy seemed to be the better fit. "Your mother is right. They're all right, you know."

"Who's they?"

"Your parents, your boyfriend – "

"He is _not_ my boyfriend." Her hands went to her hips. "I thought you are." It was a muttered whisper, but he heard it.

"Ruby."

Emma visibly stiffened, a frown marring the space between her brows. "What the fuck did she have to say?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that there's one thing they were all trying to say and . . . and I have to agree with them." That got her full attention. "Our worlds are too far apart. We have absolutely no business being together."

The awful stretch of silence was like watching a plane crash. In slow motion. You knew what was coming; you knew the impact would cause utter and complete destruction, yet you couldn't look away or do anything to stop it.

"Killian . . . what are you s-saying?" There was a tremor in her voice. "That you don't want to get married?" She bit her bottom lip in an obvious and failed attempt to keep it from trembling.

It was the hardest part. Pushing her away when he wanted her to stay. When _she_ wanted to stay. Letting go when his mind screamed at him to hang on.

"I'm saying you should reconsider the proposal." He caught her gaze and held it. " _His_ proposal."

Pain twisted her beautiful face. And the mixture of hurt, anger and betrayal that crossed her green eyes was achingly familiar. It was the look he'd hoped never to see again.

"Screw you," she bit out. "Screw you and your insecurities."

Unable to bear her streaming tears, he turned his back to her and reached for the motor. He pulled the cord with more force than absolutely needed, starting the engine. The loud noise cutting through the air as much as his soul. His head bowed, his fingers massaging his temples. He didn't care he was smearing motor oil all over his face. He didn't care about anything at all when there was this giant rift between Emma and him. Inhaling deeply, Killian waited long minutes before he looked over his shoulder, his gaze drifting back to where Emma had been standing.

His jaw clenched.

She was gone.


End file.
